


Through Different Light

by Ericine



Series: Lush [3]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alien Culture, Bechdel Test Pass, Betazoid, Cuddling & Snuggling, Eventual Smut, F/F, Feelings, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gossip, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Languages, Literal Sleeping Together, Love, Multi, Party, Partying, Science, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles, Slow Burn, Starfleet Medical Pride, Telepathy, The Borg, The Host - Freeform, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2018-12-31 15:16:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12135252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ericine/pseuds/Ericine
Summary: "Perhaps, someday, our ability to love won't be so limited." One word changes everything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cosmic_llin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_llin/gifts).



> Inspired by a lot of different discussions I've seen people having, but everything started with one gifset. (Thanks for that!)

Deanna Troi is about as professional as a person can get, for someone who lives confined in a starship with all thousand of her patients. There’s a clear line between who she is during office hours and who she is in Ten-Forward having drinks with Geordi or in one of the cargo bays piggybacking on one of Data’s playdates with Spot.

Most days, Beverly Crusher marvels at this - it must be so difficult, especially for someone who possesses abilities like hers. Today, though, she’s thankful, because all the lines in her life are blurring, and she doesn’t know where to start straightening it out.

Odan-Kareel is leaving now, but Beverly has other patients. She’s not the only doctor on staff, but putting something like this off isn’t going to make things any easier.

Deanna’s at his bedside, as she suspected, but even before she comes into the room, Deanna backs away, says something, turns around and walks out like she hadn’t sensed Beverly’s turbulence, like she had decided to use the washroom or something.

When she passes Beverly, Beverly reaches out and touches the smaller woman’s arm. “You don’t have to leave.”

Deanna smiles that gentle smile of hers, kind, understanding, reflective empathy. “I have an appointment,” she says, and even if she isn’t being truthful, Beverly believes every word.

“Odan left.”

“I heard. I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

She can feel the beginnings of a lump in her throat, but she manages to keep her voice steady. “I think that would be wise. I have a busy day tomorrow. If we have an appointment, it’ll have to be before the staff meeting.”

“Six it is then,” Deanna answers. “My door is open to you at any time.” Eyes bright, she squeezes her friend’s hand with hers warmly and walks out, hair swinging behind her crimson attire.

Beverly turns and meets Will Riker’s eyes.

_ He kisses harder, more deliberately than Odan, the-other-host-Odan, her Odan. Taller, more solid. Still, everything inside her is turning, turning, and she’s as desperate as he is. His hair short under her fingers, his arms splayed across her back. The arms of a friend, the kiss of a lover. _

If either of them had looked out the door, they would have seen Deanna stop walking and steady herself, for a moment, against the wall.

Beverly blinks. “How are you feeling?” The tricorder is familiar in her hand, so she uses it. She scans. He’s fine, but she already knew that.

“Nothing hurts, but I’d be lying if I said I felt like myself. I met Kareel Odan. She - uh, she wants to be called she - she said to expect to feel like this for a while. She remembers me, and there’s not too much done on what happens when a human serves as a host, but, uh, I’m going to remember Odan.”

“So you remember all of it.”

_ She rolls him onto his back and clasps his hands, slides them up over his head. “I love you,” she whispers, and even though he’s Odan with her eyes closed and Will with her eyes open, that’s starting to lose distinction. _

Will sits up, looks away. “Yeah,” he says. Then he meets her eyes. “I remember everything.”

“I’m so sorry,” Beverly says, then stops, because Will’s said it with her too. They chuckle.

“You’re my friend, Beverly. We’re going to get through this. We’ll figure something out.” The word “friend” stings, coming from this face and this voice. But there is only Will in his eyes. “Just let me know what I can do to help.”

She laughs a little at that, a sad, quick exhale. “I’ll let you know when I figure that out myself.” Somehow, that feels like revealing too much. She focuses on Will in a different way. “I’d better not catch you on the Bridge until we’ve figured out how much this has affected you.

“Yes, but a week--”

“--is what Dr. Selar ordered, and I have complete trust in her abilities.”

Will sighs. “Can I at least leave Sickbay?”

“Tomorrow. And I want you to report anything unusual you’re feeling.” And when her lips curl up familiarly as she strides out of the room, she almost feels normal.

* * *

“I should regret it, probably, but at the same time, regretting it feels like denying it happened.” Beverly clasps her hands in her lap. “I don’t want to forget it happened--um, in a lot of ways, it feels like it’s still happening.” She thinks of Kareel, out doing business in the far reaches of the galaxy. Could she have picked up her life to join her, to follow her around? It’d be different this time, but she’d done it before for Jack. Could she have done it again? She’d have worked whatever it was out with Will, but the  _ Enterprise  _ feels too much like home to her now, more than any other place.

“It must be strange, the parts that linger and the parts that don’t,” says Deanna. They sit in her office, coffee and hot chocolate between them. Usually, she has breakfast with Jean-Luc, but today she’s taken a raincheck, and shares uttaberries and kaseton bread with the counselor. Both of them look a little tired. Neither says anything about that, though.

“To be honest, I’ve been trying to separate out just what was real,” says Beverly. Deanna inclines her head the smallest bit at that, and Beverly takes a long sip of coffee - she normally softens it with something, but today she takes it black and bitter.  “It’s hard to get my head around. I feel like if I can understand everything that happened, then maybe I can separate out Will from Odan. And then we can work together again - or, better, I guess.”

Beverly eats the bread and berries apart, which is perfectly acceptable, but Deanna eats them the way most Betazoids do - and the way that she’ll seldom do with people she doesn’t know well - by mashing and swirling the berries onto the bread. The point was not just to eat but to make something artistic out of the food. Beverly knows that there is a telepathic element to it, but she doesn’t fully understand it yet. “But there are times when he was both, right?” This has to be strange for her, Beverly knows, and she tries to ease the thought away. That’s a conversation for a different time.

“I mean, yes. I want to talk to him about that - or, I don’t, but I know I do. But he’s recovering, and I’m trying to puzzle out what I need to speak to him about in the first place.”

_ Odan-Kareel kisses her wrist, and it’s all she can do not to curve into the feeling of her lips, but if she does that, she’s going to lose all of her resolve and never look back. _

“How did it feel, seeing him again?”

_ He touches her shoulder, a question she understands and appreciates, but there’s no time for--well, there’s just not enough time. She shrugs the coat off. They push it behind her, onto the table, because the table surface will be cold on her back otherwise and she’s too old to be doing this, but everything old is new again right now, and she doesn’t want to think about it too much. She grants herself that small of a luxury.  _

_ She’s slower than he is at freeing him from his clothes - maybe these hands are more accustomed to removing Starfleet uniforms - and she fights to get the last of it off while he’s pulling her against him, and the skin-to-skin contact is almost too much to bear. _

How is it, in these sessions when things like this happen, she’s always the one who can’t meet Deanna’s eyes, not the other way around? “Confusing,” she says, glancing to the side. “And--you know.”

When she looks down again, she’s rubbing her wrist. Deanna's face is encouraging, earnest. “Maybe saying it out loud will help you lay things out for yourself.”

She doesn’t want to say anything. “It’s heartbreak, Deanna. That’s alright. We’ve all had our hearts broken before. You get over it with time.”

Deanna takes a bite out of her artful bread and chews, looking thoughtful. “Yes, but a lot of heartbreak doesn’t involve unprecedented symbiotic secrets about an entire planet of people.”

“It was all the same person, but--”

She’d swear Deanna was leaning forward if she wasn’t sitting so straight. “But what?”

“But seeing Will made me realize how hard is to separate Odan from the host. I--felt something. I don’t have feelings for Will. I have feelings for Odan, but when I look at him--I don’t know.”

“Confused.” It’s a statement but also a question. They know each other well enough for things like this now.

_ Her legs are burning, but she feels like she can ride him forever. There is an after when this ends, and she wants to avoid that, but also this sex feels like being wrapped up in the clearest, brightest truth. Things are seldom so clear. Somewhere in the back of her mind, this amuses her - she’s heard the gossip about Will Riker, and now she knows the truth from the rumors. _

_ She leans down and kisses him hard, but she’s also trying to rock her hips just right. She can feel the electricity building between her legs, a circuit about to short, if she can just-- _

_ “Lean back,” Odan-Will nearly growls, and she moans, because that was almost all she needed to come apart above him, around him. “Lean back, God, Beverly--let me--” _

_ She’s too tired to speak, just leans back and finds the table with her hand, then his thigh. He groans, and then his fingers find her clit, and he’s saying something, but she can barely process anything anymore. _

“He said something to me,” Beverly says suddenly. She doesn’t know why it’s so important to her. “Something that didn’t translate. But it was almost like--it was almost like I could understand, or  _ feel _ , I guess, what it meant.” She’s not making any sense. “It wasn’t Trill because I looked for something that sounds like it, but when he said it, it was - I felt so strange.” Like she had crossed a line, gone into somewhere she couldn’t return from.

Is that what has been bothering her so much?

Deanna’s definitely leaning forward now--Beverly’s going to need to buy her something the next time they’re on shore leave, especially for subjecting her to this emotional mess. “Do you remember what it was?” she asks.

“Zaddy? Emzah. Something like--”

“Ah,” says Deanna, like she had remembered something Beverly had left off an away mission list, and her gaze is so open now that Beverly suddenly wants to tell her everything, anything. How does she do that? “It’s a Betazoid word."  


She’s not sure if the pause is so long in the middle because it’s actually long or it’s just the weight of it all dawning on her: what it means, why he knows it, how none of them asked to know what they know.

_ “Imzadi,” he groans, hand on her cheek, and he’s coming, and she’s still clenching around him, and she loves this, shaking, burning, longing satisfied. His tongue in her mouth, smiling freedom. Love. _

“Imzadi,” continues Deanna matter-of-factly, helpfully, her accent slipping closer to the sound of Beverly's own voice through the translator the way it does when she - rarely - speaks her native tongue. And the word sounds so right and beautiful in that voice. “Beloved. The first to touch my soul.”

Beverly’s stomach drops.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s interesting because I’ve been wishing that it had been me instead of you in that shuttle,” Deanna admits. Will raises an eyebrow at that. “Maybe it would have been easier for all of us.”

Beverly doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t have to, because time’s grace means it’s time for their morning meeting.

“The best thing to do would be to talk to him and come back,” Deanna tells her. “In the meantime, I’m here for whatever you need.”

In the hallway, on the way to work, they go back to being just friends, and Beverly has to ask. “Deanna, are we--?”

She looks sad - Beverly knows she has to be She doesn’t make a point of hiding it with her, the same way that she didn’t in Ten-Forward when she’d begged Deanna to talk to her, to take her mind off the mess she was in. “We’re okay. Let’s talk about it later? You’re busy today.”

It’s true - she _is_ busy, but she’d exaggerated a little - that was standard for any time Beverly wanted to try and forget a situation, especially now that Wesley was gone and she didn’t necessarily need to make it back in time for anything in particular. “Dinner, maybe?”

Deanna considers. “A nightcap. Just let me know when you’re out of work. I’m staying up late tonight anyway. My mother’s calling me during dinner, and she really likes to talk.”

Beverly chuckles. “Right after work, I promise.”

* * *

They release Will from Sickbay, though he’s still fatigued, so he’s still off-duty. Beverly fights with herself just a moment too long, and he ends up leaving, probably to do as much work as he actually can without being on the Bridge.

She can't blame him. It’s not like any of them wouldn’t be itching to get back to work.

“Dr. Crusher.”

Beverly turns around, smiling as she does. Dr. Selar is one of her favorite work colleagues. “Dr. Selar.”

“I would like for you to join me for working recreation in the holodeck,” Selar says. “As I understand, it’s my turn to help plan the medical staff’s appreciation festival.”

Selar’s never asked Beverly to do anything outside of work, which isn’t a problem - not everyone on the _Enterprise_ hangs out as much as the senior officers do - so it’s a little bit of a surprise. “You helped Dr. Pulaski plan the festival when she was on board, didn’t you?”

Selar blinks calmly. “Yes, it is not necessarily my turn, but it appears I have lost a bet with Dr. Hill.” Beverly’s lips turn up a little at that. “I know that parties are not always my strong suit. I was hoping to use your expertise in this matter.”

It’s true - Kate had told Beverly over some bloodwine one night about it. Selar wasn't the best at planning--parties in particular--but she’s excellent at execution. And a meeting is one more thing to take Beverly’s mind off of everything. “When were you thinking?”

“Let us go today, during lunch. We will eat quickly, then, if you do not protest, you will join me in one of my personal programs.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“You have my thanks. Also, you may want to replicate light layers. The climate will vary.”

* * *

Beverly has no idea what to wear. She ends up replicating two pairs of flexible, heat-preserving pants, a tank top, and various long-sleeved shirts and jackets of varying sleeve-lengths. She's still zipping on the last two layers when she arrives at the holodeck to find Selar zipping a thin jacket over her uniform. Beverly briefly wonders about how it must be to have Vulcan physiology.

“You wore your uniform,” Beverly says as a greeting.

“I am familiar with this terrain,” says Selar. “I am less familiar with your own physical responses to changes in temperature. It is a precaution.”

It’s a good precaution, because the mountain terrain is steep, and Beverly’s struggling to keep quiet how hard she’s breathing. She’d thought when she entered that it was a little too cold at the foot of the mountain, but now she has three of her thin long-sleeved shirts tied around her waist, leaving her in a tank top, pants, and boots that are feeling a little warm around her ankles.

“I didn’t know you liked hiking so much,” she says to Selar. She has to take a deep (quiet) breath after she gets out the sentence. She tries to concentrate on Selar’s feet, deftly stepping - almost leaping - from one boulder to another.

“I come from the mountains on Vulcan,” says Selar. “While I admit that I do not share the same affinity for them that my family does, I have always enjoyed this particular hike. I did it often has a child, and now I do it weekly as a part of my exercise routine. It is also a good spot to meditate.”

Beverly has to stop at that, not because of the physical exertion (though she is certainly in pain) but because of the realization that Selar is showing her something personal.  “Wow, thank you for sharing this with me.”

Selar pauses as well and, to Beverly’s surprise, takes a seat. “It brings a clarity of mind,” she says. “I thought maybe you would like that after your encounter with Ambassador Odan.”

She sighs. It may be possible to bluff her way past command staff (with possibly the exception of Deanna, but she knows Deanna lets plenty more go than she has to), but only the medical team has been able to see the incident’s true effect on her. It’s nothing that she’s tried to hide--they’ve all, by this point, been through some kind of harrowing encounter, if not multiple. But she doesn’t like when they have to pick up the slack for her.

At this point, she thinks her thighs will cramp if she sits crosslegged like Selar. Beverly settles for perching on a rock, slowly stretching out her hamstrings. “I appreciate you picking up my duties in Sickbay. I’ve sought counseling and am working on being able to take on as much of my schedule as I did before the incident.

“You are our leader,” says Selar. “It is only logical that, when you need help, we try to put in the same amount of work that you do for us.”

Beverly’s year at Starfleet Medical was incredibly fulfilling. Sometimes, she can’t believe it herself, that she had such a groundbreaking organization to lead. But the community there is nothing compared to the community on a ship. This was more personal. She got to see the growth of every person on her staff, and knowing that she’s helped to forge that team dynamic means more to her than they’ll ever know. “That means a lot, especially coming from you” She looks out over the view. “It is beautiful here.”

Selar nods shortly. “Yes, and it becomes only more artistic as one continues.”

Beverly tries to keep the fatigue out of her voice. “We can continue if you want.”

“I don’t want you to be too sore tomorrow,” says Selar. “But you may join me on future climbs. I’m thinking of increasing my frequency here to three times a week. I have had a lot on mind mind lately. Sometimes rigorous exercise helps.”

Beverly has been stranded on enough planets and spent enough sleepless nights wracking her brain to find cures for new diseases with her team to know when Selar is saying something but thinking another, even though that even-toned voice of hers. Beverly looks down, the smallest of smirks creeping onto her face. “What kinds of things?”

“I have had friends on this ship from nearly the moment I got here. Sometimes the relationships change, and I need time to reevaluate how to proceed. It is perfectly normal, but sometimes the ship can feel a little bit cramped. I have found that changing one’s physical perspective can help immensely. Do you agree?”

“Yes, I’ll come with you.”

“Good. Now, along with the idea of changing perspective, I would like to put forward the idea of having the medical personnel gather in astrometrics for the party. Nurse Ogawa was telling me that some of the ensigns there have been working on a light show with some of their models and are eager to test it. This can accomplish two targets with one initiative. I only need your help in convincing the rest of the department to let us stay there for a few evening hours after shift.”

It’s worth the cramped legs tomorrow - Beverly crabwalks her way off the rock to sit down next to Selar, the view of Vulcan’s mountain-desert-mountain landscape before them. “I would be happy to help.”

It was a short discussion after all, but that’s not why Selar brought her here. Neither of them need to say anything about it now.

“Thank you, Dr. Crusher,” Selar says simply, and they sit there, watching some winged animals in the distance soar over the land below them before they have to go back to work.

* * *

Deanna’s pouring over several PADDs when Will chimes the doorbell. The rush of familiarity comes into Deanna’s mind even before she grants her approval telepathically--she’s too deep in concentration to worry about speaking words at the moment--and he walks into her office.

“You must be bored nearly to death,” she says, by way of greeting. Will flops on her couch.

“You know I am. Anyway, don’t let me disturb you. What are you working on?”

“A proposal for Starfleet Command, actually,” says Deanna, but she turns it off anyway. “It’s nothing too timely, and I won’t get anything done with your mind making such a racket about having too little to do.” It’s affectionate. It ignores the common thread of distress running between them, like a fraying on the same frequency, a blip of dissonance. “How are you doing?”

“Physically, fine. I’m worried about Beverly.”

But he doesn't necessarily want to talk about that either. _Jealousy_ , in the limited way the concept exists in Federation Standard, is not a problem for both of them, and it hasn’t been for years. But this is different. Beverly has mended their broken skin and bones. They, along with the rest of the _Enterprise,_ all but spent a year raising her son while she was away. Her encounter with Odan has thrown a detour into the path of their relationship. It's hard to get used to.

Of course, she’d never bring up with Beverly said to her this morning--it would be unethical, and anyway, she’s not sure if he remembers it (and if he does, that's his to share). It matters, but it doesn’t matter more than it does for him and Beverly to come to conclusions about how they feel about the situation. “I am too, but we can’t do anything about that.” He knows as well as she does that Beverly has to come around--and will. But that’s not what he’s come to talk to her about.

She feels him consider for a moment, shuffles through the emotions in his mind before picking out his thought. “How do you deal with the aftermath of being someone else?” Deanna tilts her head and waits for clarification. “It’s like I was sharing my presence with someone else, and we were one. And now that’s gone, and I’m--lonely, of course. I guess that’s to be expected. You know that.” Deanna nods. His mind is certainly missing a friend--and it’s almost touching that Deanna can feel he feels that way about Odan. “But also, he--she’s not here anymore. I just have these memories of being someone else. And it’s not the kind of memories when you--you know, you share your body with something that you didn’t want there. It’s just like, a memory. Of a story I wrote--or a story I lived.”

At times willing and unwilling, Deanna’s shared her body and consciousness with other beings on several occasions. Usually, it’s something she only tries to think about when she’s completely off the clock--in bed or having tea before she retires. “I guess I try to use it to understand the world around me better. It’s something I knit into me and try to make a part of me, as much as possible. Though it sometimes takes time to rationalize.”

“The Trill are a fascinating species.”

Deanna smiles at that. “You should tell me about it sometime. It’s a shame they’re so closed right now. I’m sure it’s a species I’d want to know.” Deanna, too, knows something about sharing herself with others--or having others share with her.

“It just really has me looking at things differently.”

His mind and his face are enough in that moment for her to get up from behind her desk and sit with him on the couch. He bends his long legs to give her room to sit at his feet and stare down at him, curious.

It’s not so often that he needs to puzzle things out with her. This is something they do around the conference room with the rest of the team for the next alien conundrum that’s come up. If they need to figure something out personally, they speak sitting close together--half out loud and half in their minds--together in her quarters at night, touching a little too much for the arrangement they’ve worked out and too little for what both of them want.

But this is something in-between--or maybe not at all. He’s not far enough along in his thought process for her to pull anything out of it but his own confusion and determination to think it through.

Because of what’s happened between him and Odan and Beverly, she more conscious than usual about how much she touches him, but it doesn’t feel like it’s stepping over the line when she wraps a hand around his ankle next to her on the couch. Comfort. Encouragement.

He doesn’t react physically, but she feels the rush of graciousness he gets from the gesture. “I’ll tell you one thing, though,” says Will. “One of the definite good things that’s happened because of this--I think I understand you a lot better now. The sharing and the more-than-one feeling in your head. It was like I got a tiny look into what you’ve been dealing with nearly your whole life.”

She smiles at that, and their eyes meet. Warmth again, her thanking him for wanting to see her even despite the fact that he probably sees her better than anyone else has. Deanna lets go of his ankle and pulls her legs onto the couch so her feet are parallel to his. She half-leans back on her hands behind her, and though she’s facing him, her eyes are across the room.

“It’s interesting because I’ve been wishing that it had been me instead of you in that shuttle,” Deanna admits. Will raises an eyebrow at that. “Maybe it would have been easier for all of us.”

There’s his confusion again, his mind at work--whatever he’s pulled out of what he’s said is propelling him forward in thought, but there’s no revelation.

His mind works. Hers does too, and until her next patient arrives, they sit together in silence, only the tips of their shoes touching.

* * *

The call with Lwaxana goes even longer than Deanna planned, as the topic of conversation is marriage. When Deanna finally manages to get her off that topic, her mother brings up the Trill, and Deanna is sufficiently exhausted when the call ends.

Ten-Forward tends to always pick up her mood. People in there are usually there to unwind, which helps her in turn. Deanna waves to Keiko O’Brien when she walks in, and Keiko taps Beverly’s shoulder and nods her head behind her. Beverly waves her over to their shared table. When she gets there, Deanna’s a little surprised to find that Keiko feels like she’s intruding, and Beverly joins Deanna in insisting she stay.

“I just stopped by to say hello,” says Keiko, still trying to excuse herself.

“Dr. Selar took me to the holodeck Vulcan today,” Beverly tells Deanna, and Deanna can’t help but smile. There’s a lot in that statement--happiness, relaxation, and a little bit of revelation, the warm kind. “We climbed the mountains, and Keiko was helping me identify all the different kinds of plants I saw up there. Neither of us have spent a lot of time on Vulcan.”

Deanna sits down thoughtfully. “Neither have I, actually.”

Keiko finishes her drink. “I promise I have to meet Miles, but if either of you are interested in company on your next bout of shore leave?” She shrugs noncommittally at that (Keiko’s a little lonely, even as a newlywed, Deanna realizes, something she files away for later) and Deanna and Beverly both nod. “I’ll see you later.”

Beverly’s already ordered Deanna some spring wine. They sip theirs together. “One of the best things about being senior staff on a starship,” says Beverly. “Watching everyone pair off.” She chuckles to herself.

Everything about the situation--the warmth of Beverly’s thoughts, the light drinks in front of them, the hum of thoughts and conversation around them--feels almost normal. “Good day, I take it?”

“I just have a much better staff than anyone deserves.” Her smile turns into a frown as she looks down into her cup--probably remembering why she asked Deanna here in the first place. “How are you?”

“I’m working on a proposal for there to be more than one counselor on a Federation starship,” Deanna tells her. “It’s a lot of work, backing everything up, and I haven’t worked on something like this before, so it’s going slowly. But I think that it makes sense that if we have a staff to take care of our physical ailments, we have at least multiple people who can provide mental support.”

The pride that Beverly had before for Selar is now directed at her. “You were one of the first counselors to be assigned to a starship, weren’t you? I forget that, sometimes, that you’re so young and so much of a pioneer.”

“I guess, in a way, we all are.” They share a smile.

Deanna holds back a sigh as Beverly remembers again why they’re there. “I haven’t spoken to Will.”

“You’ll do it when it feels right.”

“I just want us to be okay.”

Deanna reaches across the table and takes her hand. “I know you know this, but I consider you my best friend, Beverly. We’re going to be alright. I think we’re much more alright than you might think.”

A while back, Captain Picard had stopped and told her he was proud of her, that she knew it, but that there was something to it being said out loud. Deanna thinks of that now, feeling Beverly's openness, her care for her rushing into her head at the words "best friend." Beverly squeezes her hand.

And then it happens so fast. Beverly's shock crashes into Deanna before Beverly gasps and pulls her hand back. At the same time, she feels Will entering the room behind her--surprise, realization, retreat. And the _longing_ on both sides--Deanna closes her eyes and bites her lip hard to try to stem it. And even as she opens her eyes and turns her head, she knows he’s going to be gone again, but she does it anyway--probably not the best time to advertise the fact that she can often tell when people walk into a room without looking.

“Sorry,” stammers Beverly. “I guess I’m still trying to get used to everything.” She sighs. “It’s funny. This time I wanted him to stay, and he’s the one who wanted to go.”

But Deanna finds herself wondering why Beverly dropped her hand.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will takes a deep, shaky breath. “Beverly, I saw you through the eyes of someone who loved you completely. It makes it a little hard to not want to talk to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might end up being more chapters than I bargained for, but anyway, here's the next part. Again, taking liberties with Betazoid culture. >D

By the third climb of Selar’s mountain, Beverly can’t feel her legs. She can’t tell anymore if the burn she’s feeling in her muscles is due to strain or because of all the lactic acid building up there.

There are ways to lessen the soreness, of course, but for a reason she can’t quite pin down (distracting herself? punishing herself? feeling like at least one thing in her life right now is under control?), she doesn’t use them. She just wills herself to put one foot in front of the other, to even out her breathing so it’s strong and purposeful, like Selar’s.

According to her colleague, they’re only one more climbing station from the top when they stop for this session. The shaking and burning has long become a part of Beverly’s legs, she thinks. She can barely remember a time she didn’t feel like this, and it’s only been a few days.

“You’re doing well, Doctor,” Selar says, as Beverly unceremoniously sinks to the floor and stretches out her legs, rubbing them.

Beverly laughs tiredly. “My body betrays me,” she replies. “It’s frustrating, not being able to do it all at once.”

“Reaching the summit will mean much more to you, now that you’ve struggled,” says Selar. “You have pushed yourself very much in only a week.”

It’s been a busy week. Seeing Will in Ten-Forward was enough to send her deep into the lab for the remainder of it. She’s been incredibly productive. In addition to taking care of her patients, she’s powered through all of her backlogged paperwork, nailed down a date for the medical staff’s party, and even found time to conduct an extra botanic experiment.

And then, of course, she’s been in the holodeck almost every other day, climbing up the rough, dirt-covered slopes of this mountain. The climb’s gotten long enough to where they can’t do it during lunch anymore - they settle for after work, leaving to only allow for enough time for a quick dinner before bed.

“Building character, that’s for sure.” She looks out over the orange-skied landscape, letting a thick breeze cool her, even if it’s just a little. “Thank you again for doing this with me. It must be time-consuming for you.”

“I am not certain this is a human characteristic, but I have noticed that when you experience a lot of unrest in one area of your life, you exert yourself strongly in other areas until you find balance,” says Selar. The other doctor is sitting with her legs folded in front of her and her eyes closed. She keeps them closed while she’s talking. “I hope this is helpful.”

Beverly shrugs. “Maybe you’d say inefficient.”

“Initially, maybe, but I am also not one to speak with too much authority about human emotion,” says Selar. She takes a deep, even breath. “But if Counselor Troi does not object, I think that exercise, and perhaps some meditation, can help right the imbalance you are experiencing.”

Beverly sighs. It wasn’t that she’d cut things short that night in Ten-Forward - she’d held on as long as she could - but she was sure that Deanna would have picked up on her embarrassment. She hasn’t seen her friend since, and she’s not sure if she’s being given space to process what’s going on or if she’s been half-unconsciously avoiding her. “I haven’t seen her that much, actually. There’s been a lot going on.”

“Perhaps that has been helpful, too,” says Selar.

“Avoiding Counselor Troi?” Not that that’s exactly what she’s doing - she’s just been so busy they haven’t been able to run into each other. Even during the usual morning briefings, one or both of them has had a reason not to go. Scheduling, some other duty.

Selar still hasn’t opened her eyes. The orange plays interestingly among her blue uniform, which peeks out under a thin jacket, smaller than the one she usually wears, and it surrounds her hair with a deep, bright halo. “Telepathy can be unnerving to those who aren’t used to it. But it can also be unnerving when someone who is trying to figure out their own thoughts knows that another has already discerned what that is. I imagine empathy works similarly.”

It’s not that she wants to ignore the way she feels, but there’s a balancing act that goes on after something big like Odan happens. She just wants to be closer to the balance than farther away. “Honestly, part of me just wants to ask her how I feel. That might clear a lot of things up.”

“Given that she would answer your question, what stops you?”

Beverly thinks back to Ten-Forward. She’d felt incredibly vulnerable in that moment - physically, in Will’s presence; emotionally, in Deanna’s.

And then there was the fact that she knows - has, almost - a small glimpse, a piece even, into what they share with each other. Have shared. Still share.

_Imzadi._ Beverly hadn’t had to ask Deanna anything after she translated the word. So many things clicked in that explanation. Beauty. Depth. Understanding. The kind of profundity and intimacy that makes one want to look away because it’s not yours.

“I’m afraid of what she’d answer,” replies Beverly. “And of what that would mean. Is that illogical?”

“From what I understand, it is not necessarily fear itself that is illogical. That would depend more on the actions that follow.” She opens her eyes and turns her head to her colleague now, calm as the mountain breeze. “Occasionally, the process toward those actions should not be dismissed.”

Beverly smiles faintly. “Like me making this climb, I presume?”

Selar nods once, purposeful, but with that glint in her eye that Beverly has come to realize has characteristic of her colleague. “Yes, Doctor.”

She doesn’t know what exactly does it, but she feels braver. Maybe brave enough to act.

* * *

Data’s the third-to-last to leave the poker game because he’s taking the night shift on the bridge. Will swears that the game was supposed to be in his own quarters that week, but for whatever reason - or whoever decided it would be best for him not to host the week after he’s undergone major surgery twice - it ends up in Data’s quarters. As he doesn’t sleep, it’s not unusual for him to let the crew use the space as somewhat of an open gathering spot from time to time. His departure leaves Will with Deanna. It’s his turn to deal, but he’d bet everything in front of both of them that that’s not why she’s staring at him expectantly now.

He shuffles the deck and grins a little. “You’re the one who has the shift tomorrow, not me.”

She doesn’t change the way she’s sitting - tall, with her hands folded in front of her, prim in the lavender-colored version of the teal dress she’s favored lately. But even now, at the end of what’s turning out to be an exhausted week, her eyes are wide and inviting.

He can’t help but open up to her. He’s never been able to do anything else.

He shuffles again and bridges the cards in the space between his hands. “I thought you didn’t do that when we were playing.”

Deanna responds by tilting her head at an angle so small Data would have been proud - and yeah, okay, he deserves that. “You’re sitting with your legs straight and together. You’re leaning back or up instead of forward on your elbows. You’ve been doing it all night. You’re tapping your foot on the floor. You want to talk about something, and since I’m the only one left and you’re still tapping, I’m assuming it’s to me. But only if you want to.”

Conscious of himself now, he stops moving his foot, leans forward, and shuffles again. “Body language.”

“It’s always something I’ve been peripherally aware of, but lately…” She trails off a little and looks down at her hands. “…it’s something I’ve been making more part of my conscious thought. Not for card games but as a complement.”

And a possible fallback. He frowns, remembering how lost she was when she lost her empathy, and shuffles again. “Do I still feel the same to you?”

She furrows her brow the smallest bit when he says that and Will wishes, for not the first time, that words like “feel” and “sense” weren’t as vague in his language as they were in a number of other languages, including hers. “The same as when?”

“I mean…” He taps his head. “In here. Does it still feel like me? The person I was…before.”

It’s not just the poker game. She’s been politely and compassionately staying out of his mind since Odan, just reading his surface emotions no more or less than she does the rest of the crew. It’s strange for them, and he knows that she knows he’d prefer she didn’t, but he also understands why she’s doing it. But he’s also gotten to the point where he can’t not know how Odan’s changed his mind. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

He sets the cards aside. “Please,” he says quietly.

She smiles, soft, serene, and even though it’s not necessary, she takes his hand from across the table. And then, like he’s putting his hands up to the fireplace in the middle of winter, she’s there in his head. Warm, sweet, soothing, strong. Always like the first day of spring following a winter that’s dragged on for too long.

_Here I am._ He can feel her grinning in his mind, holding back laughter. _And here you are, still Will Riker._

_ Very funny. _

Like chimes, her amusement rings familiar in his head. _ I couldn’t resist. _

Like the stars around them when they’re at half-impulse, she shimmers through his mind, touching, comforting. Days of stress melt away.  _ I don’t feel different at all? _

_ In substance, no. _ “If something about you feels different, it’s not you being manipulated. It’s something else.”

“Just plain old experience?”

She smiles and squeezes his hand. “That would depend on what you think feels different. Why don’t you think you feel like yourself?” And somewhere, back far away where Will’s not aware of it, the door opens.

A sharp intake of breath brings him back into the room - fully, physically. A familiar, stirring voice: “Oh, god, sorry!”

For the second time this week, Deanna turns around, fueled by the shock of Beverly Crusher, who’s standing in the doorway blushing, looking like some kind of holonovel adventure heroine. They’re still sharing a mental space so Will catches a thought from Deanna about how she should stop sitting with her back to doors and tries not to laugh. “For what?” asks Deanna.

Will doesn’t know how she’s done it without him noticing, but her hands are both back on her side of the table.

Beverly’s blushing, but that could be because she’s a little out of breath. She looks like she’s come straight from a workout, wearing a thinner, more fitted version of their uniform pants and a dull green tank top that exposes the dusting of freckles she has over her chest and lithe dancer limbs. She has a lot of shirts tied around her hips. “I came for poker - I didn’t know if you’d still be here, but my holodeck appointment with Selar just finished, and I thought maybe because I haven’t seen much of everyone all week, I should at least try...” She wavers. “If it’s over, it’s no problem. I should probably turn in anyway, shower...”

He realizes, as Deanna does undoubtedly, that her leaving is the last thing he wants right now. “I’ll deal you in,” Will tells her, gesturing to the table. “I was just about to start.”

He tries to think about what she must have seen when she walked in. The hand-holding, probably and most definitely. Did he have his eyes closed? Did Deanna?

_ See,  _ Deanna chides gently,  _ Beverly knows that I don’t cheat when we play. _

So Beverly hadn’t wanted anyone picking up on how she’s feeling. That makes sense. So she’s in here because she figures it’s the one time Deanna purposefully has her mental shields all the way up. There’s a brush of acknowledgement, of knowing against his mind, and Deanna shimmers out of the way, helping pull out the chair so Beverly can sit down, albeit a little uneasily. Beverly winces. “Seems like a rigorous program you’ve been running.”

Beverly sighs, closes her eyes, and smiles, shaking her hair out of the twisted way she’d had it gathered. It falls around her face like liquid fire. “That’s one way of putting it. I’m wondering if I need to engineer myself a new pair of legs.”

“I heard that the medical department’s party this year is going to be in astrometrics. Plenty of excited ensigns talking about it today. Good idea,” Deanna continues, filling space with conversation for both of their sakes.

Will deals the next hand.

* * *

Will’s time with Odan had been as educational as it had been personally shaking. From the moment he opens his eyes and the operation is complete, he has a whole new set of vocabulary. He knows, for instance, that he has been  _ joined _ and that Odan is both person and  _ symbiote _ . However, the extent to which both of them exist together is something that’s harder to communicate, even when they conceivably have as few barriers to communication as possible. New memories flood his thoughts, except they’re old memories. Except they’re memories of other people and not him.

Except he’s a different person in all of them, it seems. It’s nauseating at first, until he lets go just a little bit and lets the person with real authority take over.

Odan is experienced - or maybe Will’s been hanging around Deanna enough to have developed a smidgen of self-awareness for what thoughts are his own. If he can feel where they start, they’re his, and when he can’t, that usually means they’re Odan’s especially when it involves something Trill.

_ Normally, distinguishing thoughts isn’t something encouraged between Trill and symbiote, but I’ll allow it, because you’re not trained, and this is only temporary.  _ Even then, he felt sad that the bonding wasn’t going to last longer. It was nice having someone in his head with him.

They bonded quickly over their sense of duty, and Will decided early on that as long as they were going to distinguish between themselves as individuals - as much as possible, anyway - he was going to willingly give the reins over to Odan. Odan could use his body and anything else he needed to get these negotiations worked out; that was what was most important for the quadrant right now.

Also, he’s way,  _ way _ the hell out of his depth right now.

It didn’t feel like an out-of-body experience, not really, but he got used to the surprise that comes from performing an action peripherally, rather than completely consciously. It’s like that for days.

Beverly is something completely different.

How could he have forgotten? The feelings slam into him as soon as he sees her - the way her hair catches between his fingers like thin sunset silk, how she always finds a way to touch her patients while caring for them in a way that’s always reassuring and never a step over the line, how her passion for her work and for her duty extends over to the way she loves. She gives completely with her heart as much as she does with her mind. There’s something bewitching about it - the way her sharp tongue is so soft on his body, the way those same hands that touch her patients with care and professionalism can make him shiver long after she’s sated his desire, how she can throw her head back and lose herself gorgeously in feeling even as she’s so precise in bringing his own pleasure to light.

He knows her smile, the way she does it when she’s truly happy and carefree, and not the one of reassurance she’s perfected over the years, the one that stands against a backdrop of worry and fierce devotion, the smile of a protector. He knows just how far those long legs of hers are capable of extending, of reaching across to him and caressing his skin. How intoxicating it is to run his hands over her willowy curves. How she tastes. How she’s not touched nearly enough for her liking, which means she’s not touched enough for his.

He craves for her body and strength in a way he’s not wanted for anything in hundreds of years, and he’s been in love, of course, but it’s not like  _ this _ . It’s different every time. And oh, if she only knew about him, if he only didn’t have to hide this part of himself from her. If he didn’t owe anything to anyone and could give her what she’s been starving for for years…

(Perhaps this is another reason why things end up the way they do - Will and Odan are sticklers for duty, but when it comes to love, they leave the door wide open and the porch light on.)

He’s guilty, of course. She should never have had to put up with him like this, knowing him like this and how he’s had to keep this from her, lie to her, put something in the world up above his happiness, and to come to her now, in the body of someone who fits firmly in the category of  _ trusted friend _ …

He’s looking at her hair now in Ten-Forward, crouched, no doubt hurting. And there’s her best friend, the woman she’s told him about in passing, of whom she’s spoken of with so much fondness. He’s happy Beverly has her, the small half-Betazoid who maybe will be able to provide her with some comfort, as she knows a little bit about what it’s like to have a mind that is  _ more than one _ .

Even as he lets Odan have the full run of his mind, Deanna’s eyes from across Ten-Forward are a magnet, a compass. She meets his eyes, and it’s like sticking his foot into a nearly-frozen lake, except she’s the one wading into his mind, letting herself float tenuously in shallow water, ground mere inches from her stomach. She swims carefully, cautiously. But still, she has to test, she has to  _ know _ …

He tries to apologize to Odan, who must be experiencing her the way he’s experiencing Beverly. Or maybe that’s what Trill training teaches one to block out. Either way, the thought barely comes across, echoing instead of clear.

Realization: Already, they’re beginning to become one person.

_ It’s okay _ . Deanna’s eyes again, her presence in his mind, however small, pulling his head out of the water, pulling him up into warm, clear air, if only for a moment. This is confusing and unfamiliar, but she’s stronger than anyone gives her credit for. She’s always been able to make him hear her if she wants.

Part of him is confused to hear her; that part must be Odan. Part of him finds it so familiar it warms his bones.

_ Will, I know you’re there somewhere. It’s okay. _

He knows he should be embarrassed, even that he would be embarrassed if there wasn’t so much happening in his head right now, but he can’t seem to do anything else but listen to her as he meets her eyes.

_ Whatever happens, it’s okay. Take care of yourself. I’ll take care of her. And if you need me when this is over, I’ll take care of you, too. _

Deanna stands, still meeting his eyes, and switches sides, sitting beside Beverly with her back nearly to him. Seeing both women turned around from him stings like a phaser singing past his shoulder.

And he? He orders a drink. He knows what he’s here to do, though. He has her blessing, and now he has to belong here on the ship for the time being.

* * *

They finally give in, the both of them. Taking Beverly into his arms isn’t just paradise; it feels like fate. And he’s taller and broader than he was when he’s touched her before, and she’s hurting just a little, but not too much to not do this - her fingers all but clawing at his shoulder blades, her kiss so hard it feels like him inside her will barely be enough to comfort her.

He hesitates for a fraction of a second - he assumes that’s Odan’s way of at least trying to ask him if this is okay, to gain some sort of semblance of consent, but Will also knows that Odan - the person he was before - never would have come after her like this, would have left on his own, never would have put this decision on her shoulders.

But, god, he  _ wants _ this.

He - the  _ he _ who he is now, anyway - can’t actively leave her. He’s helpless in her wake, and she climbs on top of him ( _ goddess, radiant _ ), arms firm on his shoulders, letting his cock slide between her thighs and against her wetness, and she makes a sound of such longing and desperation that it’s all he can do not to shift his hips just that little bit to let himself slide inside (and he  _ would _ slide inside - she’s so wet and so ready, but she takes the extra step because she knows this is going to hurt after, but in the moment, she can’t care).

She doesn’t know how much he loves her, how sorry he is, how he will always be indebted to her for all of the things that she’s given him that he won’t be able to return, how he’ll never be able to express fully all the things that she means to him.

She leans down to his mouth now, and automatically, mindlessly, he closes his eyes for her kiss, hungry for her mouth as she slides maddeningly over his cock - she’s still not taken him inside. She takes his hand and puts it on her breast. Then she’s even closer to him, so their hands are touching each other, touching each others’ chests, heart-to-heart.

“I want you to remember me,” she whispers, low and deliberate, just south of fierce. His cock pulses where it’s trapped between her thighs.

He wants to answer - how could he ever forget her? But she leans that fraction of a distance forward and back, and he’s inside her, surrendering, surrendering.

* * *

“...that’ll make the light look like it’s fracturing, and with the visuals and atmospheric simulation, it’ll really feel like you’re out in space, doing a traditional space walk. Except we’ll be inside with the drinks and music - you really should see it.”

Will blinks, and Deanna’s staring straight at him again, posture perfect, with the smallest of head tilts, neutral-faced. They’re still talking about the medical department party; he can’t have zoned out for too long, then.

Deanna breaks from his face and looks to Beverly. “I’ll certainly be there,” Deanna promises. “I’m technically Starfleet Medical.”

Beverly giggles. “This is what it took for you to finally come to a departmental party?”

“I went to Kate’s!”

“This is what it takes for you to finally come to one of my departmental parties?”

"I had to visit my mother last year! I do actually try to see her regularly." They laugh again.

It’s just so normal, falling into talking like this, the way they usually talk with each other. Even lately, it’s been normal until it’s not.

They split the pot fairly evenly between the three of them - Deanna comes out just one hand ahead - before they really,  _ really _ need to call it a night. Deanna’s face is softening like it does when she’s really fatigued.

They clean up the chips together, and Deanna somehow decides that’s a good time to go check on Spot in the next room, knowing full well that the cat’s fast asleep and has been for a while.

Beverly’s shoulder brushes his as she returns the last of the chips to their box. She’s tired, and sometimes that brings the exact kind of straightforwardness that they want to have with each other right now. “I want to talk to you, but I don’t know where.”

That makes sense. They need to be able to speak privately with each other, but it’s a terrible idea for them to be alone right now.

For the umpteenth time that evening, Will finds himself grateful for Deanna, as she comes into the room cradling Spot in her arms. The cat looks pleased as punch, purring against her chest. “You can come for a nightcap if you like. Mother’s just sent over some sadi liquor from Betazed, if you like sours. You’ll have to put up with me being in the shower for just a bit, though.” They nod together, a little surprised, and Deanna lets Spot jump out of her arms and walks straight out the door.

“That’s a gift, what she has,” Beverly remarks dryly as they follow her out.

* * *

The soft rush of the sonic shower rings in the distance as Will spreads out on the chair and Beverly sits, legs crossed, on the couch in Deanna’s room. The sadi liquor bottle sits between them, untouched, but Beverly’s wondering if she should have a little. She doesn’t know how to start this conversation.

“So, sometimes I have dreams of the other Trill hosts,” says Will. It’s just a way to break the ice. He’s always been good at that, talking. “It makes things very interesting.”

“That must be something.” So she finally speaks and ends up saying absolutely nothing. Great.  


He talks right through her discomfort. “I wasn’t entirely sure who I was when I woke up this morning.”

“I don’t think I’ve been sleeping much at all.”

Will chuckles. “Do you think Trill counselors exist?”

“There’s so much we don’t know, isn’t there? There has to be someone who helps them get through things like this, so I’m going to say--yes.” No one’s  _ that _ well-adjusted.

“Captain Picard came to see me this morning - he checked how I was feeling and told me to stay off duty.” They laugh. “Have you talked to him yet?”

Jean-Luc and her have a unique and long friendship, but she doesn’t know how to begin to describe what’s happened to her to someone else. Beverly closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I think he’s giving me space.”

“Do you want space?”

_ She rarely feels like this - completely held. Warmth on her back and all around. This is a little hairy and a little itchy and a little damp, but that’s part of it, isn’t it? That’s all part of this. And if she closes her eyes, it’s almost as if - _

_ Odan-Will tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Strong Doctor Beverly, who takes care of you?” _

_ “I take care of myself.” _

_ “I want to care for you.” _

_ She rolls over - the thrill of rolling over in someone else’s arms - and kisses him. “I want to care for you too.” _

She’s tested it out both ways at this point - pretending everything was normal, actively staying out of Will’s way, and making an effort to spend time with him. “Want? No.” Not from him. “I just don’t know if that’s what I need. You?”

Will props his chin up on the back of the couch and leans back even farther. “It’s been hard, separating what I want from what - he wanted, I guess.”

She doesn’t know how to say this next part.  _ How do you feel about me?  _ It doesn’t work, so she braces herself for a different kind of dive. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“I thought that’s what we were doing.”

“Would you rather we not?”

Will takes a deep, shaky breath. “Beverly, I saw you through the eyes of someone who loved you completely. It makes it a little hard to not want to talk to you.”

She stares straight ahead. Her chest is turning over, and she doesn’t want to reveal than she already has, not that she doesn’t have much left to reveal to him. 

Following her own curiosity is a path that feels comfortable enough for her, though, so she pursues. “Is Deanna your _imzadi_?”

She watches him hear her, start, open his mouth, second-guess himself, and second-guess himself again. “How do you--”

“I brought it up in therapy - uh, that you’d said it to me, when um, he, you--we all were--she translated.”

Will straightens at that, sighs, closes his eyes at his realization. “Beverly.”

Beverly looks at the bottle in front of her, the glasses Deanna had so neatly laid out for them. Characteristic of their owner, they shimmer teal, purple, and pink. They suddenly look very inviting. Inspired, Beverly pours herself a glass and takes a sip. “You want?” He nods, so she pours him one too, and they drink together. “You want to keep going?” 

He looks so tired - Beverly tries to remind herself that they want to keep this as short as possible. He nods. "We're getting personal, remember?" he says, with a hint of that glimmer in his eye that means that she hasn't completely messed up their friendship.  


“Do you remember it?”

“It’s not that I don’t remember - it’s that I’m used to thinking it, not saying it out loud.” Will puts down his glass and sighs. “Beverly, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not--”

“I know, but parts of it were me, and even if I don’t know which ones, I’m sorry.”

Maybe it’s because she’s tired or because it’s what she’s wanted to hear, those words in that context - she’s not sure, but the ball of grief she’s been carrying around with her - the weight of the loss she’s experienced - burns at the back of her eyes, and then she’s crying, quiet, one hand over her mouth.

“Beverly,” he says - considerate, caring, a little alarmed. She’s too tired to pretend she doesn’t want comfort anymore - she nods quickly, over and over, the other hand over her mouth, and Will rises from the chair, sits down next to her, and wraps one arm around her as she cries into his shoulder. He’s solid and warm and the opposite of the empty she’s been living with for the past few days.

Did Odan know what he had to inevitably end up leaving behind when he started this with her?

She misses the sonic shower turning off. She even misses Deanna walking into the room and doesn’t notice it until there’s a cloud of satin on her other side, a smaller arm looped around her back, and Deanna’s cheek in her shoulder.

“I’m sorry to be doing this,” she manages to whisper. She can feel the tingle in her sinuses - her face is going to be red and swollen now.

Deanna takes one of Beverly’s hands in both of hers. “You misunderstand,” she murmurs. “We love you. We want you to be alright.” Will starts to rub her back. She’s so sore still from the hiking, but she’s surrounded by warmth on every side now.

The worst part about loss, Beverly decides, is that the pain diminishes after the first one but it still  _ really damn hurts _ . “I hate this part,” she says, half to Deanna, half into Will’s shoulder.

“I know,” says Deanna, “but you don’t have to do it alone.”

She doesn’t know how long they sit there holding each other, but when she opens her eyes, they’re a tangle of hands - their hands interlocked on her back, comforting her, holding her; her own arms crossed in her lap, holding Will’s with one hand and Deanna’s with another.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can I ask you one more thing? Is it better between us when Deanna’s there?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet when you started reading this you didn't know there was going to be a Sickbay Prom. Yay for Sickbay Prom!

They’re dozing off like this - Beverly and Will against each other’s shoulders, Deanna sliding just a little bit down Beverly’s arm, Beverly’s fingers in that long, black hair, keeping it out of the way. Beverly’s cried herself dry and exhausted several minutes ago. They stayed, still rubbing her back, getting slower and slower until they were all like this: comfortable, dazed.

Somewhere in the very first step toward sleep, where thoughts come slowly and without urgency, Beverly realizes she doesn’t want to leave - she’s willing to bet that Will and Deanna have reached the same level of tranquil. But she’s the one who asked for this; she’s the one who’s going to have to be the first to leave.

If only it wouldn’t be so uncomfortable to break this thing they’ve settled into.

She’s about to rub her head gently from where it’s in the crook between Will’s neck and shoulder, bring them out of it as slowly as possible, when Deanna slides forward, down Beverly’s shoulder onto her chest.

(Even unconscious, the woman finds ways to be helpful.)

Will’s still holding Beverly's hand. He lets go and touches Deanna’s forehead gently. “Deanna?”

“Hmm?” The smaller woman sounds so content and relaxed that, for a moment, Beverly just considers making herself comfortable on the couch and letting Deanna sleep on her for the rest of the night. She tries to shift as little as possible while trying to support Deanna’s head on her chest.

“Deanna, go to sleep. Beverly and I will see you tomorrow.”

Deanna’s eyes open slowly. She blinks, makes that contented sound again, then moves a little. Beverly briefly wonders what exactly wakes up first - her physical senses or her empathic ones. It’s a question she’ll have to ask her later. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

One of her curls breaks free from where Beverly’s holding it back and falls over her eyes. Without thinking, Beverly pushes it back, and Deanna looks up at the both of them then - Will, with one arm behind Beverly’s shoulders and the other on the left side of Deanna’s face; Beverly, with her arm around Deanna, hand on the other side of Deanna’s face. Her eyes drift to Will’s face, and she narrows her eyes marginally, like she’s missed something someone’s said. But no one’s said anything.

“Thank you for coming - I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Deanna says softly. She pushes herself up and onto her feet, and Beverly rises quickly; she doesn’t want to overstay her welcome. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

And then it’s just Beverly and Will outside Deanna’s quarters, with Beverly in that stage of exhaustion that makes the lights in the hallway look a little too bright and fuzzy.

“I’ll walk you,” he offers.

“You don’t have to,” she replies, almost on autopilot.

“I know, but I’d like to.”

They walk. After all, she’s just broken down crying in his arms. She likes to keep the number of people who see her cry - especially like that - in numbers she can count on both of her hands, but even she admits that she’d probably want to walk herself back to her quarters too, especially now, when the hallways are empty and the kind of quiet that comes from being on the ship at this hour, with only the hum of the engines going off in the background.

For a moment, she thinks about Deanna’s head on her shoulder and smiles to herself.

“What is it?”

She hadn’t thought she’d smiled big enough to get anyone’s attention. “Oh, nothing. Just...the last person I had sleeping on my shoulder like that was Wesley. He was about the same size too.”

“So when he was about nine years old?” jokes Will.

Beverly tries to hold back her own laugh. “Must have been.”

They reach her door, smiling. “Thank you,” she says - and means it. “I’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t ask her if she’s sure - he just nods. She appreciates that. She turns toward her door before she realizes something--

“What about you?” she asks, flushing a little when she realizes that she hasn’t asked. “How are you feeling?”

He shrugs, adds a small but reassuring nod. “I’ll be fine.”

She’s not sure what she expected him to say otherwise. They’re standing in the middle of the hallway, after all. “Okay, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

She goes to hug him and finds her mouth on his instead.

It’s not uncommon for them to kiss goodnight and hasn’t been for a few years, and it’s a bit less common but not out of the realm of the possibility that they kiss goodnight on their mouths, but that’s not what this is. This is a pressing kiss, one that lingers for just a moment too long to be friendly and takes Beverly back to when she was seventeen, gangly, and hadn’t figured out what to do with her hands.

“Sorry,” he whispers, and she almost wishes that he hadn’t. It’s not his heat he wants now, not the memories that have been at the forefront of her mind whenever he’s present. It’s his comfort, arms wrapped around her and pressure over her empty back on Deanna’s couch, soft like his voice is now.

“Sorry,” she answers, and slides indoors before anyone can say anything else.

She strips off her mountain climbing clothes (finally), stands in the sonic shower, and as she’s lying in bed minutes later, drifting off to sleep, she realizes that the entire evening just feels like a giant dream, like if she wakes up it might not have happened.

* * *

Deanna awakes slowly, the pillow soft against her cheek where she’s hugging it to her chest, the blankets perfectly cocooned around her curled on her side.

She remembers exhaustion, the kind she hasn’t experienced it in a while. And while she’ll certainly be going back to sleep to catch a few more hour, she also feels like she’s slept better than she has in months.

She’d never advocate for a person to run themselves into the ground in order to get some rest, but if it happens to work out in her favor, she’s willing to go with it. Things have been relentless lately, people still recovering from the Borg. It’s been more taxing on her than she’s wanted to admit that two of the people she finds are often among the most stabilizing forces on the ship are not only experiencing emotional turbulence but turbulence that has to do with each other.

And, in a way, it has to do a little bit with her as well.

The perspective’s leaving her now, just as the pillow under her cheek is starting to feel a little warm. She can’t quite get herself back into the softness or warmth she was in before.

She can’t get herself back into it because Will’s radiating exhaustion, confusion, and a small sense of urgency edged with need.

And he’s trying to say something to her, like attempting to slide through a door that’s not quite open enough. She opens her mind wide.

_ Will?  _

_ Hey, I’m going to go. Don’t wake up too much for me, okay? I’ll let myself out. _

That’s a strange enough statement that gets her to open her eyes, and there he is, standing in front of her. She struggles to sit up. “I told you to come back,” she remembers, a quick, strange, and hazy conversation that had happened over Beverly’s head just moments ago.

Or, earlier at some point.

“What time is it?”

“It’s been about thirty minutes since I left,” says Will, flickering with amusement. “You were really out, weren’t you?”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s affectionate. “Yes.” She reaches behind her and makes a half-effort to pull back the covers, relinquishing her other pillow.  _ Get in _ . Her eyes are already closed, and she’s snuggling back into her pillow when she picks up his hesitation.  _ Your concern is valid, but you’re a different kind of lonely. And, it’s me. You’ll be fine. _

That settles it, but he’s also be too tired to argue either way. The bed shifts when he settles in beside her, thinking about the last time they’d shared a bed. That was on Betazed, months ago - spring flowers, bright colors, and not so long before the Borg came and turned all of the possibility they’d teased out there back into fantasy.

There just hadn’t been room for it, then. They’ve been starting again, clearing out space for each other, but it wasn’t until their hands had met on Beverly’s back, clasped, comforting, the three of them all feeling the same heartbreak, that this had become a possibility.

Deanna rolls over onto her other side. Her eyes are still closed, and his are too, but it feels wrong to let him talk to the back of her head, telepathy or not. “Is that why you told me to come back?” he asks.

_ We were all in a pretty vulnerable place. _ She nudges him a little with her knee until he realizes that he’s supposed to turn over, which he does with some amusement. They’re not quite the best-equipped for this particular big-spoon-little-spoon combination.

_ And you’d rather I be vulnerable here than somewhere else _ . He’s vague with that last part, the equivalent of waving his hands around in the air. She doesn’t want him to be alone, of course, but he’s also feeling guilty about something - leaving? Leaving with Beverly alone? “We kissed, you know.”

Deanna drapes an arm over Will’s side and rests her other hand on his back, just between his shoulder blades. He’s like the cool side of a pillow in her arms. “How was that?” she asks, just south of slurring her words, and he sends her a bundle of emotions - chagrin, embarrassment, sadness, tenderness. “How was she?”

“The same, I think.”  _ What did you mean, all? _ “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

_ All what? _

_ That we were all feeling vulnerable.  _ The “vulnerable” is tinged with Deanna’s own involvement, something she didn’t realize she was revealing until now. She should have known he’d pick up on it. “It must be hard to be around us, with all of the things we’re feeling, huh?”  _ But this is different. _

Deanna holds him outside of her thoughts for a few moments before answering. She doesn’t want to make this about her.  _ Yes _ .

_ Show me? _

She’s not sure how to make him fully understand, and she lets him feel that, her reaching for concepts to communicate. She settles on their own  _ imzadi _ , a concept that in and of itself is impossible to translate, but it’s one he understands, because he understands them.

_ Three perspectives _ , she communicates, changing the position of the hand on his stomach so that she’s touching him with three fingers, a triangle.  _ You are  _ imzadi  _ for me. I am  _ imzadi  _ for you. But you can also interact with two people who are bonded, an outsider’s perspective, if you will. _

He reaches for her hand where it’s slung across his stomach and lays his three fingers on top of hers; he understands.

_ But maybe when non-telepaths are involved, there’s another perspective possible _ . She lifts the three fingers on his stomach so that only the tips are touching, forming a pyramid.  _ Four points _ .

He’s working the logic through his head.  _ But it’s not just one relationship, right? _

_ Right _ . She opens wide the hand on his stomach.  _ You and me. Odan and Beverly. You and Beverly. You and Odan. It’s like opening up the pyramid to a fourth dimension. It’s not four-dimensional in the sense of the term, but there’s another dimension - layer - to it. _

_ And you felt all of it - every perspective in every direction, all at once? _

“Mmhm.”  _ I think there’s a reason that Betazoids have trouble reading Trill - joined Trill _ . She corrects herself with Will’s subconscious correction of the term.  _ I’m not so sure that we’re supposed to be able to read them, with problems that can come up like this one. _

_ You read us a little. _

_ Only when you were hosting him. And then I can read it now, retroactively. _

His smirk is so clear to her it’s like she’s performing the action herself.  _ So it’s me. _

She’s too tired to roll her eyes and hasn’t opened them, just sends over amused exasperation, but he’s already sobering.

_ Were you caught up in it? _

_ Yes, but _ \-- But she hadn’t been caught up in a way that was violent at all. She remembers one of her first few experiences on the  _ Enterprise _ , an entire crew’s unmasked, uninhibited inebriation and desire. This wasn’t anything like that. On the contrary, it was so deeply soothing that she slept for the past half hour like she hasn’t slept in months, with no dreams about Locutus or the terror of a thousand minds inside of her own, the hum of agitation that still exists in the hallways of the  _ Enterprise _ now, months after the occurrence.  _ A single beautiful, brilliant mix of emotion. But it was at both of your expense. _

Will takes her hand that’s draped over his side and holds it, with both of his arms, to his chest.  _ You know that’s not the truth. _

He’s right, of course. But it’s more true than she’d like.  _ I didn’t just ask you here for your benefit, though _ .

There’s a rush of warmth in her mind, then, like clouds clearing and the sun on her back.  _ I missed you too, Deanna _ .

They fall asleep in that sun together.

* * *

It’s a day that’s as long and as busy as any other, but for some reason, it doesn’t feel that way. Still, Beverly’s not taking any chances. She props her legs up on the empty chair across from her in Ten-Forward and adjusts the heating apparatus she has on them - she and Selar are going to try to summit tomorrow, and even though her legs have gotten fairly accustomed to the climbs, there’s still residual soreness. She doesn’t want to put off the climb, though. That might give her too much time to think about the weird goodnight kiss between her and Will, and she honestly doesn’t have enough time to delve into the ramifications of that yet.

Also, there’s part of her that suspects that it’s not as big a deal as it should be. She doesn’t want to think about that right now either.

She’s taken some of her evaluation paperwork with her, and she’s so focused on that that she doesn’t notice Deanna until she’s standing right in front of her.

“Oh! Hi, Deanna.” She’s about to move her legs, but Deanna holds up a hand.

“Alyssa told me all about your big plans for tomorrow,” she says. “I’ll pull up a chair. We’re all rooting for you, you know.”

Beverly’s recent mountaineering adventures have made the rounds around Sickbay, probably because she’s needed resources to ice and heat her muscles appropriately. “You should come with us sometime.”

Deanna slides the chair over and sinks down into it. “I think I’ll stick with Mok’bara and our exercise program. If I ever decide to heighten my uptake of physical fitness, I’ll let you know,” she tells her, eyes glimmering with that engaging amusement she usually has when she’s having a good day.

It’s time for a break anyway. Beverly puts her PADD aside. “How was your day?”

“Better than any I’ve had in a while,” says Deanna, and Beverly wonders a little bit about how she feels about the night before. “How did you sleep?”

“Easy,” Beverly says truthfully, and Deanna’s face has that openness to it that makes her want to tell her about Will. She puts that desire aside. A moment of time, a slight change in tone. That’s all she’s worried about, and that’s not worth upsetting her friend over. Besides, she’s already decided that it’s not going to happen again. “Thank you for being there for me.”

Deanna smiles, warm and sparkling. “I’m just sorry I fell asleep on you,” she replies. “I would have just let both of you stay otherwise.”

She can’t help it - her eyebrow goes up at that. “Stay?”

Deanna shrugs. “We would have fit. It was comfortable.” Maybe Beverly’s so stunned that she figures she shouldn’t pursue the subject, but Deanna doesn’t pursue it anymore. She puts a PADD on the table. “I actually came to you for some business. I’ve finished my proposal for a counseling staff on all starships, relative to the number of passengers onboard. I was hoping you’d read it over, offer suggestions, and then sign off on it? Your support would go a long way with Starfleet."  


“Of course.” Beverly takes the PADD and stacks it on top of her own.

“I know it’s going to be a long process, but I want to do it right.”

Beverly chuckles. “That’s how it goes. I swear I got notifications about papers of mine being published that I’ve completely forgotten I submitted in the first place.”

“It’s the first one I’ve submitted - I mean, the first I’ve submitted from the flagship,” Deanna admits. “It feels different.”

“It’ll also carry a little more weight. I’m happy to work with you on this.” She’s about to turn at that moment, because Deanna’s eyes are over Beverly’s shoulder.

“Don’t turn,” whispers Deanna, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“Is it--” It’s like the setup for a bad “we’ve got to stop meeting like this” joke.

“No, it’s not Will,” whispers Deanna, her eyes lighting up, and she’s not even stopping to acknowledge that, so the gossip must be good. Beverly leans forward too. “Okay, you know how Alyssa’s been wearing that amazing-looking jacket when she’s off-duty?

Beverly thinks for a moment about the sleek but oversized jacket she’s been hanging out in Ten-Forward in. “Yes, actually. What about it?”

“Okay, I was wondering where I’ve seen it before, because it was familiar, but I  _ swear _ I saw it on Selar when I was hanging out with her and Kate one night on the ship.”

Beverly thinks a moment. Vulcan fashion isn’t really  _ in _ in the Federation - it's more of an alternative cult fashion thing outside of Vulcan - but she can see the appeal. “Come to think of it, Selar’s been wearing a smaller jacket than usual for our mountain climbing sessions. I just thought she really didn’t get that cold because she’s so used to the Vulcan climate.”

Deanna lifts her hands in front of her where they’re resting on the table and shakes them. “Okay, okay, okay. That’s even better! So with that in mind, count to five and look behind you right now.”

It’s suddenly agonizing not to turn around. Beverly grins, sighs, and counts.

It takes a trained eye in Starfleet, but the more observant of them have gained the ability to tell when someone’s wearing a uniform that’s not custom-replicated to fit them. Beverly and Deanna discovered their fifth month serving together that they have the best, save probably for Guinan, who doesn’t usually care to comment on such things.

And there Selar and Alyssa are, wearing each others’ uniforms - the pooling of the pants at Alyssa's ankles and the tight chest of Selar's outfit gives them away, even though they've taken care to switch out the rank insignia. They wave to Beverly. She and Deanna wave back, and then Beverly turns back around.

“I mean, they were part of the medical team reinforcements called in for the emergency this morning.” A Federation away team had accidentally stumbled into the path of the  _ Enterprise _ from another reality. They’d treated the team and sent them back, a situation that, surprisingly had started in the morning and had been resolved by lunch. “It could mean anything. I mean, okay - I guess  _ you’d _ know.” She taps her head.

Deanna shrugs. “I’m empathic, not telepathic, so there is some room for variation always. But you’ve spent more time with Selar in the past week and a half than almost anyone. What do you think?”

It would make sense, Beverly thinks. After all, Selar’s been talking about wanting to work out a personal problem of her own, and while Beverly certainly believes their meetings were an excuse to help her with her own problems, it’s unlike Selar to completely mask her own intentions. Beverly subtly takes another look over her shoulder. “I’ll be damned.”

“Do you think they’ll go to the departmental party together?” Deanna asks excitedly.

Beverly tries not to laugh. The holodeck excluded, it’s not like there were a plethora of ship-wide parties where it was appropriate to dress up, show out, and let loose, which was something that several races in the Federation seemed to enjoy. Diplomatic functions, while aplenty, had to be a little buttoned-up by nature. Departmental parties were where, as Geordi would put it, “the magic happened.” “I guess we’ll have to wait and see. This means that you’re going to go for sure?”

“I’ve already responded to Selar,” Deanna grins. “It’ll be nice to lighten up a little.”

“You can be my date,” jokes Beverly, though she blushes a little as she says it.

“You don’t want to bring a date?”

“Don’t do that, Deanna.”

“You could bring him, if you wanted.” Beverly narrows her eyes a little. “I’m just asking. I’d completely understand if the answer is no.”

Beverly props her chin up on one hand. “It’s like we’re friends from before until we’re not. And then we are. And then it’s -  _ strange _ .”

Deanna shrugs. “Things can’t be like they were before. We’re always changing.”

“But I wish we’d just pick one, you know? Friends. Or - it’s not  _ love _ . We’re not lovers.”

“Friends and lovers are just two ways to describe a relationship,” Deanna points out. “There’s plenty of room in there for other nouns. But not love? I don’t believe that for a second. You love each other.”

“Yes, but you and Will love each other. Uh,  _ imzadi _ each other. You and I love each other, Deanna,” she says, and for some reason, heat’s rising in her cheeks. “It’s different.”

“You and the Captain love each other,” says Deanna gently, and Beverly looks down at her hands. “Love is a spectrum, an infinite spectrum. You’re just changing where the dial sits.”

Beverly leans back in her chair and pulls a leg up with her, hugging her knee. “Don't you two always go together to things like this? Why aren’t you bringing him?”

Deanna raises her eyes to the ceiling, playful. “Well, you know how it is with parties with new crowds. If you haven’t been there before, maybe you don’t know if the _atmosphere_ is going to be right. I just kind of want to get a feel for the place before I start bringing anyone to anything.”

Beverly rolls her eyes and reminds herself to ask Deanna later about the extravagant social functions she must have attended while growing up on Betazed. “Bringing him’s not going to change anything.”

“Maybe, but we’ll look great, and there’ll be a great show.” They laugh at that, but when they stop, Deanna’s got that imploring, open look on her face again.

She has to tell her. “I wish there was a way to say ‘I don’t know what we are, but I just want you to hold me,’” Beverly says. It’s embarrassing. She looks down at her fingers.

“Well,” says Deanna, “I’m only a call away if you ever want someone to hold you -  _ I’m serious _ .” Beverly’s laughing. She tries to stop. “But as far as trying to express what you want - I think you just did.”

* * *

Uncharacteristic of him, Will had slept through the night and then some - a full sleep cycle, a rarity on the  _ Enterprise _ , particularly for its first officer. That meant that Deanna was gone by the time he’d woken up, off to deal with her patients. She wouldn’t have wanted to wake him up, but he’s a little surprised that he slept through both of her alarms.

He shows himself out and wishes he had somewhere to be - he’s still off duty for another two days, and the only thing he has planned today is Spot-watching duty with Geordi, who’s about to head off to Risa for the combination of shore leave and a conference.

Still, it’s going to be agonizing until he’s back on the bridge.

He’s already worked through all of his paperwork, something that’ll never happen in his career again, so he decides to brush up on combat techniques in the holodeck. He’d tell anyone otherwise, but he’s not one-hundred percent after Odan.

He gets past the physical combat and is going for target practice when his comm badge beeps.

“Crusher to Riker.”

A stab of guilt. He probably should have checked in with her this morning after what happened last night.

Ah well, he was asleep. And he was supposed to be getting rest, right? “Riker here.”

“Sorry, I had to use the computer to locate you. Can I come in? It’ll only take a moment.”

“Sure thing.”

A moment later, the arch appears, and she’s standing there, hands behind her back. “Hi.”

“Hi.” A little concerned, he ventures, “How are you?”

“Good, actually.” She smiles a little, and it’s a bit like watching sunlight hit water. “I, um, don’t regret anything that happened last night.” He raises an eyebrow at that, and she swallows, visibly. This is hard for her. “I feel like I should, but I don’t.”

He has an idea.

“Computer, run program Riker Data.” The holodeck phases into a ballroom, and suddenly, they’re sitting on the side of a crowded dance floor full of dancers. However, instead of the twentieth century styles they’re used to seeing in such programs, people are dressed more in the style of the Federation. The other chairs are noticeably empty. “I was working on it as a gift for Data,” he explains to Beverly. “He’s been really interested in dancing since Miles and Keiko’s wedding, and I wanted to expose him to some ballroom styles that still made him feel like he was in a natural setting today. I’m working on adding non-human styles to it as well.”

Beverly grins at that. “You know, I love to dance.”

“I know,” Will tells her. “You came to the reception late because of the baby delivery, but I was one of a handful of people privileged enough to watch you cut a rug with Data. Don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret - ours and the other four people who were left there.”

Beverly rolls her eyes and takes a seat at one of the tables. He joins her. “I don’t regret it either, in case you were wondering.”

Beverly nods slowly. “Yes, that’s the problem, isn’t it? We don't regret things that happened, but we don't know how we feel about them until after they happen. We need, uh, defined parameters for what this is - don’t worry, it doesn’t have to be exact. But I'm afraid I'm going to cross a line or something.”

He doesn't want to tell her how far back that line is for him. He's still trying to work through the fact that he'd take anything she offers, but only if she offers it. “What did you have in mind?”

“I mean, I was going to ask you the same thing.” There’s a pause there, where they’re waiting for each other to speak.

Beverly puts her hands over her eyes. “Okay, wow. I’m sorry. I came here. I should go first.” She keeps her hands over her eyes, to Will’s slight amusement (and slight concern - she’s so afraid to ask for what she needs emotionally). “Um, the cuddling - good. Though probably with less crying.”

“And the kissing?”

“I don’t know. I want to say yes, but you’re not even back on duty. Do you think it’s going to affect the way we work with each other?”

“Hm, I see your point. So, platonic touching - good. Romantic touching - check back in a couple weeks?”

“Loosely?” She slides her hands away from her eyes, down her face. “I mean, are you okay with this?”

“I admit that it’s nice to be able to help you out with some of your feelings.”

“But is it helping out with yours?”

“The way it works out for me, helping you helps me.” And the way she looks at him then is so compassionate, so disarming that it’s all he can do not to reach out to her.

“Okay,” she whispers. She clears her throat. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but we’re throwing our departmental party in about a week and a half. You want to come?”

He does remember, not because he was listening to her when she was talking about it but because that was part of the paperwork he’s been working his way through. “I mean, I’ll be stopping by for sure.” It’s not really a requirement, but he and Captain Picard usually top by all of the departmental parties, just to say hello and mingle for a while. Also, Beverly throws great parties.  


“I meant, do you want to come with me?”

She’s blushing. He grins wide. “It would be my honor to accompany you.”

She looks relieved. “Great. I’m not sure how my schedule’s going to be that day, but you can just come by Sickbay and we can leave, if worse comes to worse.”

“Sure.” And, because he figures now’s as good a time to bring it up as ever, and she’s looking like she’s about to leave. “Can I ask you one more thing?” She nods. “Is it better between us when Deanna’s there?”

As expected, she’s a little confused but understands. “You mean - when it’s the three of us?” He nods. “I mean, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t, but I don’t know if that’s - the way it is or if it’s because I’ve been so confused lately.”

“Are you still confused?”

She smiles half-heartedly. “Less so.” She watches the dancers for a moment. “You know, she’s going too, to the party.”

“Good deal,” says Will. Inspired, he stands up and holds out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Beverly blinks, looks over at the dancers doing a pretty intense-looking foxtrot, and looks back at him, a little skeptical. “I didn’t know you danced ballroom.” 

“Viennese waltz - I’m not great, but I figure you can lead.” She smiles her sunlight smile again - and takes his hand.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If I’m not mistaken, a certain doctor pulled me right out of my dream with her holodeck high and then decided she needed to use my bed to figure out if she liked feeling me up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, it just gets longer and longer! I swear I'm getting to the good parts soon. There's just so much stuff everyone has to work through beforehand. I hope you like anyway. :) At the very least, you have bb prom Deanna and Geordi to look forward to, which continues to out-cute all of my ideas about things that are cute.

Will is completely cleared for duty just days before they find out that Geordi’s temporarily been turned into a sleeper agent for the Romulans. That means plenty of paperwork for everyone and long sessions where Deanna’s trying to help ease Geordi’s broken mind into the open - and then help fix what little she can.

It hits all of them hard - Geordi’s such a dependable source of light for the ship, but they’re also all so busy that there’s not a lot of time to process it.

That also means that there’s not a lot of time for Geordi to think about anything other than his duties and what happened. So Will invites him for dinner in Ten-Forward, with the caveat that neither of them are allowed to talk about what’s happened. They have to talk about pretty much anything else.

After they order drinks from Guinan (who gives Will That Eye, meaning she’s completely willing to enforce the we-don’t-talk-about-the-Romulans rule), Geordi leans forward and props his chin up on his hand. “So, how’s that thing going between you, Dr. Crusher, and Counselor Troi?”

Okay, so maybe it falls under their allowed topics of conversation and Geordi certainly gets a pass after what happened to him, but that doesn’t keep Will from raising an eyebrow. “Okay, first of all -  _ what? _ And second of all -  _ really? _ ”

Geordi leans back in his chair. “Okay, so I was actually talking about how you and Counselor Troi managed to land invites from Dr. Crusher to the medical department party, but I appear to have hit on something completely different. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Deanna’s Starfleet Medical.”

“Okay, sure, we’ve all seen her in med blue that one time, but you know she does stuff with comms and diplomacy too, so it’s kind of easy to forget. Also, you know, she doesn’t always wear a uniform. I guess that’s kind of ship’s counselor prerogative though. Some of them wear uniforms, right?”

Will doesn’t actually have that answer off the top of his head. It occurs to him that he should.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Guinan says smoothly, placing two Andorian ales in front of them. “What’s on your minds this evening?”

“We know very little about Counselor Troi’s position on the ship, apparently,” Geordi replies.

“Hm,” Guinan nods. “I guess knowing what you don’t know is certainly a start. Wave me over if you need anything.” She walks back to the bar.

Geordi waits until Will’s had a sip of his drink. “I’m jealous, frankly.”

Will blinks.

Geordi holds out his hands in a peace gesture. “A party in astrometrics? I don’t know what engineering’s going to do to top that. Laser disco?”

“I don’t know - I thought having the ‘warp core breach’ drink a few years ago was a nice touch.”

“We’re forbidden to serve that drink in large quantities ever again, you know.”

Will grins. “I know.” They pause for another sip.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? It’s obviously on your mind. You thought I was referring to it twice now.”

He finally thinks to feign confusion. “Referring to what?”

Geordi slings an arm over the back of his chair. “You taught me to play poker better than that. Besides, who would I tell? I won’t tell anyone.”

Will grins. “You’ll tell Data. Data will tell everyone.”

“Okay, but that’s not because Data can’t keep a secret. He has to talk to people while he’s trying to get a handle on what’s going on.” Will stares. “Okay, sir, I won’t tell Data.”

“You’re gonna ‘sir’ me now? Now, of all times?”

Geordi laughs, and that makes Will happy - he hasn’t seen him do that in a while. “Okay, okay, point taken.”

“To be honest, Geordi,” Will says, taking another sip, “I don’t think it’s my story to tell.” Still, his curiosity gets the better of him. “Is it really so obvious?”

Geordi taps his VISOR with a finger. “It’s a gift and a curse. I know when people are hot and sometimes even hot for each other, but I’m no empath. But when you put that next to other relevant data - look, I’m not saying I go out of my way to do it, you know, but it’s just been a little  _ obvious _ lately. If it makes you feel any better, though, I don’t think anyone else has noticed anything - which I guess means Data hasn’t noticed anything, and the two biggest gossips on the ship are uh, you know,  _ in _ this--”

“How has it been obvious lately when we haven’t been spending any time together?”

Geordi grins wide. “You mean, you haven’t noticed how the three of you have found every reason under the sun to be in engineering together over the past week?”

Well, that wasn’t completely true - some of his sessions with Deanna were held there instead of her office because it was good for him to be close by if he was needed. A chief engineer’s job is never done. And then Beverly had to be present for those. Then they had to coordinate radiation safety checks, which of course he could have delegated, but he was trying to throw himself back into work fully after being away for so long. But then again, Beverly could also have delegated…

“All of those reasons were justified,” he tells Geordi.

“Okay,” Geordi replies cheerfully, almost in singsong. “They’re both fine women.”

_ “Geordi…” _

“What, I can’t state a fact? I mean, I was a little worried after everything that went down with the Trill ambassador, but I thought that would be more of a thing between you and Counselor Troi--”

_ “Geordi.” _

“--because you two are  _ such close friends _ and you had  _ another person walking around inside of you _ , okay? But then I was spending so much time down in Sickbay that I couldn’t help but overhear a few things - only that Dr. Crusher had been dating the guy, and then I put everything together by myself and  _ told no one, I swear. _ ”

Well, it’s not like he can stop him at this point, especially when he’s talking about being in Sickbay because of what happened with the Romulans. “Well, thanks for that,” he says. “I’m sure we all appreciate it.”

“To be honest, I’m a little jealous.”

Will sighs.  _ “Geordi…” _

“Has anything I’ve been saying been the thing you thought I was going to say?” asks Geordi, and when he’s greeted with a silent pause, he nods. “Okay. Anyway, so what I was going to say is that if it had been anyone else - or any other humans, though I guess Counselor Troi isn’t really  _ human _ .”

Will holds up a hand. “I get it. A lot relies on you finishing your thought, though, so please finish it?”

“It would be a problem. But because it’s you three - or I guess, I like to think it would be this way if it was any of us - it’s going to be alright. And that’s what I wanted to tell you. That I’m here if you want to talk about it, but you’re going to be fine, and in the meantime, it’s kind of nice to watch something like this happen - the good parts, you know, not the secret alien species part. Privately.” He sweeps his hand out for emphasis. “As in I’m the only person who knows it. And I’m rooting for you, you know, to reach an agreement on what’s best for all of you. Because you’re all good people who deserve good things.”

Will chuckles. “La Forge, you’re a gift, you know that?” He taps his comm badge. “Riker and La Forge to Troi.”

“Troi here. Hi, Will. Hi, Geordi.”

“We wanted to ask you something, Deanna.”

“Why don’t you ask me in person?” They both look around the room and see her in her signature red jumpsuit. She’s standing in the doorway. They kill their comm connection and wait for her to take her seat. “Hello. What is it?”

Will grins at Geordi, who looks slightly stunned, and leans back in his chair. “Deanna, do you have a date to the medical department party in three days?”

Deanna’s eyes light up. “No, actually.” She glances at Geordi. “Are you going?” Geordi shakes his head. “Well, that won’t do. I would love if you’d do me the honor of being my date. If that’s alright with you, of course. Do you want to go?”

“Boy, do I!”

Deanna grins. “Wonderful. Would you mind letting me know by tonight what you’re going to wear? I think I’d like to coordinate. If you’re coming straight from engineering, though, that’s also fine. I can find something that works with the gold.”  _ Will, stop laughing before I make you. _

None of it’s out loud, of course, but he can’t stop the amusement reverberating off the insides of his head, and she can’t stop hearing it.  _ I can’t help it. You’re flashing me back to the Academy ball so hard I can still feel how badly my new shoes hurt me that night. _

“Uh, I think I can switch shifts that day,” Geordi says. “I’ll send over what I’m wearing to you by tomorrow, okay? Pick you up at oh-six hundred for a quick cocktail before?”

Deanna raises an eyebrow at Will.  _ What a gentleman, this one. He probably won’t make the mistake of wearing new shoes, too.  _ Will sends her the equivalent of a glare. “That’s perfect, Geordi.”

Geordi beams. Then, he glances toward the door and downs the rest of his drink quickly. Will stares at him a little, but Deanna’s already turning around for the door. “Well, I’d better get a jumpstart on work if I’m going to be able to switch that shift and spend enough time primping for my date with Counselor Troi.” He grins at Deanna, who grins back at him. “I’ll see you guys later.” He practically runs out of the room.

Will turns around and sees Beverly bending over the bar to speak to Guinan, her hair tumbling down her back.  _ Geordi knows about us _ .

Deanna doesn’t need to ask who “us” is.  _ Of course he does. It’s not like we’re exactly being subtle. _

_ Right, about that, have we figured out what we're being subtle about? _

_ No, imzadi, this thing between us remains nebulous and undefined.  
_

Together, they watch Beverly straighten and toss her hair over her shoulder.  _ Okay, well, I thought we were being very subtle about our undefined thing. Obviously, I was mistaken. Who else knows? _

* * *

Five tables over, Alyssa Ogawa and Keiko O’Brien watch Deanna and Will watch Beverly. Keiko leans forward conspiratorially as Alyssa sips her sake.

“Do you believe me now?” Keiko stage-whispers, eyes wide and emphatic. “ _ There’s something going on over there _ .”

Alyssa shrugs a shoulder. “But isn’t that kind of a thing, like Commander Riker and Counselor Troi have a  _ thing _ , and no one really knows what it is, but it’s just kind of there? Kind of like an open relationship?”

“I was talking about Commander Riker and Dr. Crusher. They’re got  _ eyes _ .”

“How do you see these things?”

Keiko shrugs. “Hang around with Dr. Crusher and Counselor Troi enough, and you’ll pick up a few things.”

Alyssa sets her cup down and beams. “I think it’s lovely, if they do have something worked out. Her son’s been gone for a while. It’s nice for Dr. Crusher to have someone - someones. Some people?”

“It kind of makes you wish that you’d spent more time speaking to our Andorian crew members, doesn’t it?” chuckles Keiko.

“I guess you don’t see them as often because most of the ones we have aboard are bonded,” Alyssa muses. “It must take a great more deal of time to be in a relationship with more people.”

Keiko sighs. “I can barely manage one person.” She sips her sake while Alyssa peers at her. “It’s not that I don’t love Miles or that I don’t think we should be together for the rest of our lives. It’s just not felt like home lately on the  _ Enterprise _ .

Alyssa shudders. “I can’t imagine going through what you went through.”

Keiko sighs. “Well, if you stay here long enough, you will at some point. The good news is that you being picked to be here means that you’ll probably end up being fine, give or take a couple trips to the counselor. Who did you replace?”

“Replace?”

“I know you weren’t officially supposed to be told, but I know everyone knows. Who did you replace from the Borg attack?”

Alyssa frowns. “Ensign Pal. Abhi Pal.”

“Died?”

“Requested reassignment.”

“Wow, that’s good,” Keiko murmurs.

“I heard that the arboretum has almost completely been restored,” Alyssa offers.

“Sorry, I must seem so negative to you,” says Keiko. “Yes, it’s almost the way it used to be - it’ll never be the same, but it’s going to be better than expectations soon.” She rubs her eyes. “Maybe I need a break. Miles and I have been talking about starting a family - we’ve been talking about that since before we got married, but then with everything that’s happened, I’m sitting here thinking - do I really want to bring a child into all of this? What if it had been on the ship when that happened? Or worse, what if it had been on Wolf 359 - oh no, is Counselor Troi looking over here?”

Alyssa glances over Keiko’s shoulder, to where Dr. Crusher’s taken a seat with Commander Riker and Counselor Troi. The counselor had been looking in their direction, but it was more of a glance over the entire portion of the room. “No, and if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think your feelings differ a ton from what other people on this ship are experiencing.” Alyssa pours more sake into Keiko’s glass. “Plenty of time to think about things like that, anyway. Partners, babies. No one has to do anything today.”

Keiko takes a sip. “How do you do that, go with the flow like that?”

“I don’t think I do,” Alyssa admits. “I think the flow goes with me. You keep your head down, do what you think is right, and - I don’t know - good things happen.”

“Like finding love on a starship mere months after arriving?”

Alyssa blushes. “Sure, why not?”

“It’s romantic, isn’t it?” Keiko smiles. “During the day, you have your duties, and then - you have all of these things to learn. And all of this art to make. And all of the stars. And maybe someone who holds you while you watch those go whizzing by?” She laughs a little. “Don’t worry about what I saw at all. There’s a reason we botanists call the arborteum the  _ Enterprise _ ’s Lovers’ Lane.”

(If Alyssa had bothered to look back across the room then, she would have noticed Deanna Troi’s shoulders relax, just enough to be visible.)

Alyssa blushes. “I wake up every day and can’t believe where I am,” she says. “I guess that goes away at some point, doesn’t it?”

“Well, it hasn’t for me. Maybe that’s the reason that I’m still here,” shrugs Keiko. “Maybe you wake up, and it hurts a little, but that feeling of ‘I can’t believe this is my life’?” She gestures to to the room around her. “That’s still there. Or, you know, maybe I just needed to meet someone who shared my really good taste in sake.”

“I haven’t even shown you my whiskey yet!” Alyssa giggles. “That stuff’s so much better, I promise. I have this one bottle that my grandmother gave me.”

It’s Keiko’s turn to refill - she tops off Alyssa’s glass. “Can I ask how you two met? I mean - obviously, you work together. But there had to be a point where you looked over at Dr. Selar and just thought, you know, maybe it would work out.”

Alyssa smiles to herself. “I think we’re still trying to figure out how to communicate our relationship to others - or if that’s even something we want to do at this point. But sure, we met over tea. Or, that’s how I got to know her. I invited her for tea, and then she invited me for tea, and then we were running through the replicator recipes, but we always had something to talk about. Not that we’re both big conversationalists, but it’s always comfortable, even the silences.”

“So it was during one of those conversations? What were you talking about?”

“Uh, well, no, not exactly. Before the ship, she hadn’t spent very much time among humans - I guess her class was a human-light one. She wanted to know where I was from - or, where I’d grown up. I found a holoprogram for British Columbia, which was good, because she likes the mountains. And then it was snowing--”

“ _ Very _ romantic,” Keiko interjects.

“--yes, but you know how Vulcans don’t always do moments of passion - or, I guess, do them the way humans think of them? I was so afraid I’d overstep something. So I’m sitting there, scared out of my wits, but I managed to ask her if she felt like she had learned something from me bringing her there.” She pauses, and Keiko leans forward and opens her hands. “She said she had but that she’d also found herself more perplexed, because she was feeling a sense of wholeness.”

“Did you kiss?”

“No, it felt like - like that wouldn’t be right at the time. So I just took her hand, and we were there on that viewing point, snow coming down around us. And then we kept going to tea until I asked her if I could learn something about her, so we began to meditate together. It became so routine that I completely forgot and kissed her goodnight one night before I left, because it felt like I’d been doing it all along, but it was the first time it had happened. And then I didn’t hear for her a for a few days, and I was really worried I’d messed everything up. Turns out, she was just off climbing mountains with Dr. Crusher. She came back after that day, replicated me dinner, kissed me, and then - I guess everything happened after that.”

Keiko’s eyes are wide. “What do you think Dr. Crusher said?”

Alyssa shrugs. “Like I said, the flow goes with me. She might not have said anything. Maybe it was a coincidence. I guess it doesn’t matter. We’re just kind of sitting in this feeling of wholeness, I guess.”

“Wholeness translating into love in Alyssa’s terms?”

“Wholeness translating into - wholeness. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like working toward something inevitable, something hard-won. We learn and grow together.”

Keiko leans forward curiously. “Working toward? Why’d you ask her to tea that day? There are more than enough get-togethers for the medical staff on the  _ Enterprise _ . Was it  _ koi no yokan _ ?”

Alyssa grins. “What is it with everyone on this ship and their huge, epic, fated love stories?”

“I  _ like _ my huge, epic, fated love story, thank you very much. I think it’s only fair that everyone get their chance at one.” They laugh.

“Well, if you’re asking if I knew I’d fall in love with her at some point - yes.” Keiko’s eyes sparkle. “I’m not sure if we’re  _ in love _ now, but if wholeness becomes completeness?”

Keiko takes her drink with both hands and sips. “You could write a novel alone off the stories you hear in Ten-Forward - not that I’d tell anyone.”

“Well,” says Alyssa, reaching across to put her hand on Keiko’s wrist, “if you want to take a break from novel writing one night and come to the department party, Selar and I would love to see you there. Bring Miles. We have an extra ticket for each of us. Let loose. Dance under the light of infinite stars and join the betting pool for who’s going to be the person who gets something banned on the ship this year.”

Keiko laughs. “You’re saying that like it’s a joke. It’s very serious. My money’s on Dr. Hill.”

“You bet and you weren’t even going to go to the party?”

Keiko pats Alyssa’s hand. “See, you’ve been spending months doing wholesome, academic-meets-romantic know-thyself activities with your girlfriend. There’s nothing wrong with that, but you’ve been missing out! Alyssa, allow me to be the one to introduce you to the  _ Enterprise _ ’s extensive and comprehensive gambling culture.”

* * *

“Dr. Crusher, it is time to wake up.”

Beverly opens her eyes, sleepy and confused. This bed is too soft and small to be hers, and the lighting in this room is all wrong, because she can barely see Selar kneeling in front of her.

Selar?

“There is a little time for you to pack,” Selar tells her, “but you must not delay too much longer. We must begin this portion of the hike while it is as cool as possible.”

Beverly doesn’t feel like getting out of bed at all, even if this one isn’t her own, but she nods and forces herself to sit up anyway. Full consciousness will come later.

Their mountain cabin is small, with just enough room to sleep and protect them from the winds. There’s a small kitchen, which Selar’s made use of to produce a thick, oily tealike drink. She hands some of it over to Beverly who swallows it obediently.

This particular portion of the hike can be very long, and while Selar has stated that she doesn’t doubt that they both have the endurance to make it, it’s much easier and pragmatic to split it into two portions like this - a four-hour portion that takes them into sundown and then another two-and-a-half hour portion after a four-hour rest. It’s meant to be done at night, and the controls of the holodeck can be manipulated to replicate that, but the only time the two of them have so much time to spare is right after their shifts. Beverly estimates it’s around oh-one-hundred hours, but her body feels like it’s oh-three, with enough muscle fatigue to make her want to sleep much, much longer than she’s been allowed to these past few weeks.

The tea finished, they pick up their packs and continue out into the air that’s just hinging on cold; it’ll start to feel much warmer later. With the hardest portion of the hike behind them and with Beverly’s newfound endurance, they can fully converse as they work their way up the incline.

“I admire your discipline, Doctor,” Selar tells her. They move almost as one now, with an eye for the same foot placements. “If I am frank, I always have.”

Beverly looks over at her and grins, just a little. “The feeling is mutual, I think. And we’ve been climbing mountains together. I think you can call me Beverly.”

Selar considers that for a moment. “It may take me some time, but I will consider calling you by your name during our off hours. You may call me Selar.”

They usually climb in silence, partially because she knows it’s what Selar prefers and partially because she’s often too taxed to speak. Today, though, she’s feeling stronger, and her curiosity is getting the better of her. She tries to allow a long period of their footsteps before bringing anything up. “I trust everything is alright now, with your friendship, the one that was changing?”

Selar takes a deep breath, and it’s not because she’s necessarily in need of more air. “I have been considering how to bring it up to you, actually, because it may affect my duties.”

Beverly chuckles a little. “Am I your boss now?”

“Perhaps, Dr. Crusher.” Selar motions for her to stop for a moment and withdraws her water bottle from her pack. Beverly does the same. “I thought I had begun a relationship with a coworker.”

Beverly clamps down on her excitement and tries to keep her voice neutral. “You thought as in it’s over or you thought as in you’re not sure if the relationship exists or not?”

Selar frowns. “I have grown up my entire life in a place just like this,” she says, gesturing around her to the mountain that’s cool, with sparse vegetation growth. “This is Vulcan, but this is not the city. I am the equivalent of a small-town Vulcan, perhaps.” Beverly bites her lip hard to keep from smiling. It works. “In many ways, I am fortunate. It is a little more varied in climate up here. It’s not always dry. It’s not always hot.  I believe my lungs are also overall healthier because of the multiple variations in terrain. Also--” She pauses, as if she’s hesitating over revealing it. “--I prefer the snow.” Beverly sips, watching her over her water bottle. “But I have had very little exposure to cultures other than my own, outside of my Starfleet training. And theory only reaches so far when it comes to interpersonal relationships.”

“You didn’t know if your definition of a bond matched theirs,” Beverly suggests.

“Hers,” Selar corrects her. “And yes.” She’s thinking again. “You know. It is logical that you did. Less logical that you wouldn’t bring it up immediately, but your logic often dictates that you let people figure these things out for themselves. I often subscribe to this belief myself. It works well with children, for example.” Beverly raises an eyebrow. “I have a large extended family. My services were often needed growing up to help care for my younger cousins.”

The image of Selar with children is almost too much for Beverly to bear. “I see,” she manages to say behind her water bottle.

“I thought maybe something similar would happen if we came up here together - that you, given time and space, things you don’t have a lot of in your position on the  _ Enterprise _ \- would help you come to clarity about the incident with Ambassador Odan and Commander Riker. Of course, I was confused as well about something different, but it was only my intent to guide you. But you often lead by example, Dr. Crusher. I think it is in your nature.”

Beverly blinks, slightly astonished. “I don’t think I said anything helpful.”

“Your patience in figuring out an event that was so foreign to you, one previously unrecorded, and then working that out when those left behind were your friends - it inspired me to think of myself and Nurse Ogawa in terms that were not just Vulcan, nor human.”

Beverly can’t suppress her smile at the mention of Alyssa’s name. “Something that works for both of you.”

Selar nods. “Vulcan and human relationships have a reputation for being - difficult. Skewed in one direction. From the limited stories I heard growing up, it sounded like such a relationship would require one to give up something quintessentially theirs. But perhaps such a bond would be so strong that that would be a sacrifice worth making. I did not like the sound of the sacrifice, though. I like who I am.”

“And do you feel that way after your experience being with Alyssa?” Beverly asks gently.

“The bond, yes. That I must change who I am to be with her, no. On the contrary, I am quite at ease. It is more like we are learning and growing together, rather than trying to - fit, for the lack of a better word.” They’re silent for a while, and when Selar begins to pack away her water, Beverly follows. They begin to hike again, and though there’s plenty more she can say, Beverly lets the silence settle around them again until she can feel out an opening.

“Selar, you know I don’t require my staff to report on their private lives. I’m of course happy for you both and honored that you’d want to tell me, but it’d be very hard for me to object.”

“Yes, however, if the situation would arise, I would like to be the last option if she needed a life-saving procedure performed. It would be the responsible thing to do.”

The ‘Last Standing papers,’ as they’re called colloquially, are a set of forms that do exactly that. Beverly, as the ship’s CMO, doesn’t get the privilege of being able to sign such paperwork, though there’s unofficial protocol in case when family members are involved. She remembers talking it over with Wesley before she took her assignment on the ship. It’s certainly a practical thing to do, and she probably would have signed it herself if she’d been a staff doctor. That doesn’t stop her heart from feeling like it’s going to beam out of her chest. Again, she reaches for a neutral tone of voice. “Send the paperwork over today, and I’ll sign it.”

“Thank you... _ Beverly _ ,” Selar says, trying the name on for size. “Come, the summit is just around this path.”

They’ve watched the sunset every day she’s been on the mountain - she suspects Selar has arranged it that way for the best view - but nothing compares to this: red, gold, and orange majesty as far as her eye can see, illuminating  the horizon where the sunrise splits the landscape into a whole new variation on the theme of the colors. The air is clearer up here, but where it goes dusty, it blurs with just the right amount of mystery. Beverly tears up. “It’s beautiful.”

Selar nods succinctly. “Yes, it is a nice complement to your hair.”

Beverly laughs then, and the sound echoes around the land around them. “I think I’m going to miss doing this with you.”

“Yes, that is why I believe that the view pales in comparison to the journey,” says Selar. “You may of course come visit the real thing sometime. I think you will find my family quite suitable hosts.”

Beverly sinks down the rock to where she’s sitting on the ground. “I’d really like that.”

“In the meantime, we could have less frequent holodeck leisure time - perhaps somewhere less strenuous and more tranquil.”

Beverly grins. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

* * *

One moment, Deanna’s dreaming about cramming for her Starfleet exams, struggling to stay awake to memorize  _ one more concept _ , and then suddenly she’s so awake she almost feels like she needs to get up and  _ dance _ .

She sits up in bed quickly. Dream. Her room. Nighttime.

Maybe.

“Computer, tell me the time.”

“The time is oh-three-forty-seven,” the computer chirps, and Deanna finds herself reminded, as she often is when conversing with the ship's computer, that she needs to call her mother. She could do that now. She could do plenty of things right now. The night is young, and she’s got plenty of time and resources to get things done. The adrenaline’s rushing through her, exploding along a string like fireworks getting closer and closer, like someone walking down the hall.

She smiles, shakes her head, and grabs her comm badge. “Troi to Crusher.”

“Crusher here. Deanna, it’s the middle of the night. Are you alright?”

Deanna scoots to the edge of her bed. “Yes, actually, better than alright. I take it your climb was good?”

“...I woke you, didn’t I?”

“It’s not your fault, but yes, I feel more awake than I’ve felt in months.”

“I’m so s--”

“Just come over.”

“If it’s really not that much trou--”

“I insist.”

* * *

Deanna’s sitting on her couch, attentive, legs crossed. There’s a pot of quickly-replicated matcha tea in front of them, and her eyes follow Beverly back and forth as she paces around the room, sage jacket flapping around her over her black climbing clothes.

“And it  _ was incredible _ , the colors, and the Selar said that it matched my hair, which--” She fluffs the red strands modestly like she doesn’t know that they turn heads on a regular basis. “And then she was telling me all about Alyssa, and it was so beautiful, how they’ve come together, and I’d never really considered how hard it must be for Vulcans and humans to make it work, because you know we’ve all heard about Spock, but it’s just kind of hard to imagine--”

“--unless you’ve lived it?” asks Deanna, with a soft smile.

Beverly stops for a moment, settling to a simmer just momentarily. “Yeah. You’d know, wouldn’t you?”

Deanna grins and gestures for her to continue. Beverly waves her hands in front of her in one sharp, strong gesture. Explosion again, back to pacing. “Yes, exactly! And then the climb - I really don’t think I’ve been in such good shape for years, and I know that I’m supposed to be sleeping right now, but there’s just so much that’s happened, and there’s so much that’s clear.”

“Like what?”

Beverly wavers just a little, and Deanna tilts her head toward the seat next to her. “You’re welcome to sit down at any time, you know.”

Taking her first deep breath since she’s walked into Deanna’s quarters, Beverly sits down, and it’s like touching a working machine; Deanna can feel her skin vibrating. “I feel like my insides are buzzing,” Beverly admits. “Maybe this would be better to talk about after I’ve come down from this.”

There’s anticipation there, and a steeling of herself - she’s expecting Deanna to make a case for why she shouldn’t. “Okay,” Deanna replies, and there’s the adrenaline-tinged surprise, floating in her stomach. “What would you like to do instead?”

It’s an innocent question, but then it’s not so innocent at all. They stare at each other in the low, soft light of Deanna’s quarters, air quivering around them, tone changing.

Beverly’s hand’s shaking from the adrenaline and some good, old-fashioned nervousness as she reaches up and pushes Deanna’s hair behind her ear, brushing her cheek with the back of her knuckles. “I think we all  _ know  _ what we want to do. I just don’t know how.”

For a moment, it’s like she’s looking at her through Will’s eyes again - bewitching lips, eyes just south of wicked. Anticipation and promise and hope building between the two of them.

There are other things more important right now than the adrenaline blooming possibility between them, like how it’s also coiling into fear and trepidation.

Deanna takes a deep breath, wills herself to turn away, and picks up her teacup. “The  _ how _ is important.” She sips. “I know you and I have never been involved that way, and I’m not necessarily saying we should be. At the end of the day, everyone has to be comfortable.”

Beverly’s hands are still shaking, just a little, when she sips her own tea. “I think, um, I want to try. Can I use your shower?”

* * *

"You know, I might reconsider hiking with Selar. Your muscles have _so much definition_ \- I can't believe I didn't notice." Deanna prefers to sleep in silk. Beverly’s more of a cotton person, but she dons Deanna’s taupe-colored silk without argument after she washes the hike from her skin. It’s much shorter on her, barely reaches her mid-thighs, and she doesn’t reach for the blanket immediately - to be fair, Deanna keeps her room warm. Also, that makes it easier for Deanna to run her hands over Beverly's arms, like she's doing now.  


The buzz that woke Deanna into this is still there - fainter now. Beverly shapes it into more of a delightful hum as she lies wrapped around her friend, bent arm under her head and the other wrapped around Deanna’s waist. "My legs are probably the most impressive," Beverly tells her, and in response, Deanna reaches back and down.  


"Incredible. Not that your legs weren't amazing already."

They’re talking about everything and anything to give room for this: their hands moving slowly - fingertips brushing an arm, two of their legs locked together at the ankle.

There's a pause while Deanna feels a little bit more - down Beverly's side, her stomach. Then, she rubs the side of her face just a little bit against the inside of Beverly’s arm where she rests. “Selar and Alyssa are a great match. You think Alyssa likes it here?”

“I think she’s been hanging out with Keiko,” Beverly answers. “That might be good for both of them. And then there’s Selar, of course. Is it bad that I feel like this is my doing, like I can take some responsibility for this?”

Deanna giggles. “Maybe if we keep it between us.” She’s definitely coming down from the rush now. They’ll probably fall asleep like this, if Deanna’s alarm doesn’t go off first.

Beverly makes a happy noise. She buries her head in the back of Deanna’s hair and holds her a little more firmly around her waist. “You’re so warm,” she murmurs.

Maybe it comes across as a little huskier as it should, but Deanna hums, leaning back, grabbing Beverly’s arm so that her own elbow just touches Beverly’s silk-covered hip. “I assume you’re familiar with Betazoid physiology.”

“Knowing is one thing. Experiencing is another.” Beverly slides her hand up so she can take the arm on her hip. “Do I make you cold?”

Deanna shifts her leg back farther, so they’re crossed at the knee now instead of the ankle. “It evens out eventually.”

“Is it frustrating to be with humans, when they can’t respond to you with the same senses you have?”

“My mix - and I guess my senses - are in rare supply. But in short, no,” says Deanna. She wiggles out of Beverly’s grasp then and rolls over so they’re facing each other. “But as far as Will and I are concerned, it’s a more complex answer.” She trying to figure out how to explain it in a way that Beverly would best understand, when she’s hit with a wave of comfort and acceptance, Beverly’s hand in hers, their foreheads touching.

“Maybe you two can tell me more about it later.”

Deanna closes her eyes and finds that she can still almost feel where Beverly’s lips are without having to see them. “Okay, how’s this trial going, then?”

They’re so close that she can feel the brush of Beverly’s eyelashes on her cheek - longing mixed with the taste of a savored moment. “You are an excellent cuddler. You should teach a class.” Beverly sighs, and Deanna figures she should open her eyes at that. “Deanna, when did this happen?”

“You in my bed?” asks Deanna, because gods forgive her, she can’t resist, and she pays for it too - a doubled flash of arousal from both of them, and suddenly, everything’s so much more: heated silk on skin, the eyelashes fluttering on her cheekbone, the smoothness of Beverly’s thumb where she’s stroking it with hers. “If I’m not mistaken, a certain doctor pulled me right out of my dream with her holodeck high and then decided she needed to use my bed to figure out if she liked feeling me up."

“Deanna,” Beverly murmurs, more heated than exasperated, tilting her head so she can kiss her cheek, and it’s all Deanna can do not to kiss where Beverly’s chin bumps against her mouth. They could do this in the dark, with hormones and love stories and silky skin under their fingertips. Or, they could do it in the light, with none of those things, and see if it would actually work. “You know what I mean. I get me and Will. I get you and Will. But you and me?”

“I see you as Will sees you, tinged with the way I already saw you, which was as a beautiful, capable, strong person who works hard and loves harder, so I guess the real question is--” She tilts her head and kisses Beverly’s cheek because it’s getting really hard not to. “--how do you see me?”

Beverly swallows, and Deanna can feel the breaking point as she realizes it. She unclasps their hands, electric on the back of her thumb where Deanna’s been rubbing, and takes the smaller woman’s wrist. “I want to kiss you right now.”

She knows what this feels like, of course. She knows what arousal feels like in almost everyone on the  _ Enterprise _ . It’s a natural part of life. But being the subject of Beverly’s is like velvet. She just wants to wrap herself up in it. “You want to. I think I just told you I want to,” she murmurs, wrapping her arm around Beverly’s waist, “but will you?”

“The time is oh-five-hundred,” chirps the computer. “The time is oh-five-hundred. The time is oh-five-”

Deanna sighs. “Yes, thank you, that’ll be all.” The computer beeps obediently, and Deanna has to laugh then, because Beverly actually flops on her back and  _ groans _ .

“ _Oh my god_ , today’s going to be hell.”

"I'm so sorry. Killed the moment, didn't it?"

"Kind of," Beverly tells her, even as Deanna knows that both of them would happily have carried it forward anyway. But who wants a first kiss to happen like this?

“Computer, lights, fifty percent,” says Deanna, and the room illuminates. They’re flushed. Beverly’s nightgown has completely ridden up around her hips, and Deanna pulls hers up around her chest. “Breakfast?” she suggests lightly. “You can help yourself to whatever you want. I just need to shower.”

Beverly inhales, regret and a little amusement. “Sure. Do you have a tunic or something? I need to stop by my quarters."  


“Help yourself.” Deanna leans forward and kisses her on the side of her mouth. It’s quick, some consolation. “But you’d better be here when I get out.”

* * *

Will stops by Deanna’s quarters for breakfast and finds the table already set and Beverly sitting in uniform on Deanna’s couch, Deanna wrapped around her side koala-style wearing that lavender jumpsuit of hers. Beverly’s feeding her a forkful of - something.

The door closes behind him, and the two of them watch him double over laughing. “Wow, I don’t even know where to start with all of this. Did you stay here?” he asks, breezing into the room and taking a forkful of the chocolate chip pancakes off Deanna’s plate.

Beverly raises her eyebrow so high Will’s surprised there’s not a hole in the ceiling. “Would it be that funny if I did?”

“No, but Deanna looks just a little bit like a toddler clinging to you right now.”

Deanna’s mouth drops open. “First of all, Beverly wanted to be held, and we wanted to eat breakfast. This is a very suitable solution to both of those problems. Secondly, you come into  _ my  _ quarters, eat  _ my  _ chocolate…” She shaking, but it's because she's still clinging to Beverly, and Beverly's shaking with laughter.  


“I did stay here,” wheezes Beverly.

“She climbed a mountain all night and then came here,” Deanna corrects.

He shoots them a look.  _ And then what? _

“Oh, come on, don’t be crass.”

Will shrugs and sticks a piece of toast in his mouth. “Alright,” he says, while chewing. “Not a hint of crassness here, just a man trying to get his energy in before a morning meeting, a full day of work and a full night of Starfleet Medical showing us mere mortals how to party.”

"That's tonight, is it?" asks Beverly, a little dazed.

Deanna holds out a particularly chocolate-heavy piece of pancake with her fingers, and Beverly eats it without thinking. "It's going to be wonderful, I'm sure," Deanna reassures her. And then, when Beverly and Will are both looking at her, she sucks the chocolate off every single one of her fingers.

Beverly looks across the room, and Will's smiling that damn grin of his. "Last chance to back out, Crusher." Beverly wraps an arm around Deanna, reaches up, and wipes a little chocolate off the corner of her mouth.

"Wouldn't dream of it," she tells him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's not that I think there's a - power imbalance or something. It's just - do you think it can be that simple?" She can't bring herself to say love. "You just - look at someone the right way, through different light - and that's it? Everything changes?"
> 
> Will leans forward on one elbow, propping his chin up on his hand. "What would be wrong if that's true?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I'm SO SORRY this is SO LONG. And when you look at the number of words it took me to get here when this was originally going to be a three-chapter thing...LOL.  
> 2\. I borrowed Leyenn's brain on a lot of these things - I'll go into more detail at the end.  
> 3\. SO MANY LIBERTIES TAKEN when it comes to Starfleet Medical culture hahaha.

Beverly reports for duty, wondering how she’s going to get through the day. She’s not sure what’s occupying more space in her mind - the prospect of seeing Will tonight or the prospect of seeing Deanna. Would things be different? Would they be the  _ same _ ?

Her trepidation turns out to be anticlimactic, though: Will shows up to Sickbay before lunch.

“Can I see you in private?” he asks, and her heart stupidly leaps into her throat, until she realizes that he’s waving a PADD at her. She leads him into her office, chiding herself. They honestly haven’t had any trouble  _ working _ together since he’s been back on duty. She doesn’t know why she’s feeling so nervous now.

If Will has any indication of how she’s feeling, he doesn’t show it. “Revisions to Deanna’s Starfleet proposal,” he says, laying the PADD on her desk. “I know you were supposed to sign the old copy, but maybe look these over and then sign again? There are a couple of points she wanted to clarify in a lot more detail.”

Beverly picks up the PADD, a little confused. “Alright. You know that these things usually get a complete pass from me before they head on up to you, right?”

“She also could have sent this to you herself, right?” Beverly nods. “So maybe it’s not entirely a work call.”

Beverly crosses her arms across her chest. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

"It’s not really what’s wrong but what’s - not fully clear,” Will tells her. “I wanted to clarify something. You know that Deanna and I share an alpha chi-class telepathic bond, right?"

That's a little confusing, because it's simple information that's available in both of their medical records. She remembers it coming up their first year on the ship. "Yes," Beverly prompts.

"There's something our records don't necessarily show."

That raises Beverly's eyebrows. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes.”

"Am I going to need to sit down for this?"

Will chuckles. "Hardly."

"Then out with it."

Will nods slowly. "If you were to properly categorize it, it would be alpha-chi-class with omega characteristics."

Beverly leans back against her desk, as fascinated as she is confused. "Meaning your thoughts come through as clear as conversation to each other. Words, pictures, memories - despite--" She looks up for confirmation.

He holds up both hands. "No telepaths in my family, as far as I know. There's always a chance, you know, but--"

"There was no official medical or security reason for you to bring it up, a detail that small." Beverly's mouth turns up at the corners. "You're still under no obligation to, as far as I'm concerned. That's your business."

Will shrugs. "At this point, anyway. We honestly were wondering if we wanted to make it clear anyway, but we didn't know it for sure. We'd always suspected, but we'd never been checked out. We did on Betazed. It just took us a few years to get there. And then, when we finally did, things got so busy so fast--"  _ The Borg.  _ He doesn't have to say it. "It just fell to the wayside. It wasn't the most important."

"And now it is?"

Will looks at her, like she should know them better than this. "If we want to do this right, our business is your business."

Something flutters inside of her, and she pushes it aside. She'll deal with that later. "That's why you're bringing me this in person, because she's going to be able to hear everything you're saying. It's like she's actually here right now." For a moment, her mind flies out into conjecture. How many times had she been talking to both of them and not realizing it?

"She can block out a lot of things if she wants to, you know. And most of the time, she wants to. There are a lot of people on this ship. It's kind of like a constant triage." That helps bring Beverly's mind back into the room. Of course she screens most of it. She knows this, but she'd also be lying if she admitted that it hadn't sent her reeling a little. He chuckles. "That includes me sometimes. Anyway, do you have questions? Deanna figured I'd be able to relate to you more about this, because neither of us are really supposed to be telepathic. It's just her, for me."

"I--" Of course she has questions. Of course she does. She tries to narrow them down to the ones that directly deal with the emotional impact of this information, because there's way too much that she's probably supposed to be speaking to a Betazoid medical professional about, and  _ why had she never thought to seek one of them out  _ at one of Starfleet's numerous medical conferences? "What did you--" She grasps for the right word. "What did you  _ feel _ like, when you were Odan? Could she reach you?"

"Like a really crackly subspace transmission. It was a little hard for me to pick those memories out myself, to be honest."

"But she couldn't read Trill emotions."

"Not really, no."

"And we're - all - together?"

That wins her a small smile. "Sometimes. If we're confused. Or if we're trying to clarify something. We're not usually talking about you," he says, when her eyes flicker over to the side. "We'd do that out loud."  


She nods, mostly to signal that she understands, but they sit in silence for a while after that, while she turns over for the umpteenth time how this has dropped a bombshell on their lives. "You really didn't have to tell me," she says, and she hopes that it doesn't sound as weak as it feels.

Either way, Will's looking at her now with a little more intensity than she was going for. She sighs and gestures to her desk. They sit, and by force of habit, Beverly pulls her knee up with her on the chair to hug against her chest. "Maybe not," Will tells her lightly. "But we want to. We'd have brought it up earlier too, but it's hard to forget that it's not necessarily normal, because to us, it is. It's been a while, you know?"

He's very concerned, and she doesn't want him to be, not the way that he probably is now. "It's not that I think there's a - power imbalance or something. It's just - do you think it can be that simple?" She can't bring herself to say  _ love,  _ and it occurs to her for a moment that if she was Deanna, he might hear her say it anyway. "You just -  _ look at someone the right way _ , through different light - and that's it? Everything changes?"

Will leans forward on one elbow, propping his chin up on his hand."What would be wrong if that's true?"

Beverly's thinking about  _ right place, right time _ and a little bit about  _ right people _ . "Nothing." If she's very honest with herself, she hasn't thought about love as something  _ forever _ in a while. It seems almost pointless, and if there was a point, she's had her forever love, and it's gone now, existing in a different state, one she can't touch. "But do you think that way?"

Chin still in his hand, Will shakes his head. "I don't. Because you know what? The light's different, but the thing you're looking at had to be there to begin with."

The fluttering's back, and Beverly lets it extend outward, lighting up her face, her limbs, her spine. She has to get used to it at some point, right? "Do I also get to ask you what Deanna thinks about it?"

Will laughs and then falls silent for a moment. Beverly tries to time the conversation they’re having out in her head, but it doesn't fully work.

Will blinks, as if someone's said something surprising. "I believe we're in conflict. Deanna says that she does - but also that she’s not sure if that’s what’s happening here with you."

“Interesting.” There's an unasked question here, what she thinks about the whole thing, but they're not asking for the same reason that she's not answering. “I'm going back to work," she says instead.

"Alright." Will rises. "I'll see you tonight," he says, and it's so  _ easy,  _ that moment, like kissing someone goodbye in the morning with a baby in her arms. It’s homey and so calming that she can’t find it in herself to be nervous the rest of the day.

* * *

Geordi cheerfully informs Deanna that he’s going to show up in “blue and black, with some gold for a little something extra.” It’s a gesture of good faith, he explains, marrying the medical blue to the engineering gold.

She tells him it’s simple and great because it  _ is _ a simple and great idea. However, that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t spend the next few days trying to figure out what to wear.

Her normal choices - blues, violets, and pinks - are great for rooms with normal  _ Enterprise _ lighting. However, Ensign Georgiou (one of the Sickbay nurses and also the go-to authority on junior officer gossip), astrometrics is really taking the opportunity to make the room look like a classic sky full of stars, as seen from a planet with a relatively clear atmosphere. The room’s probably going to be dark, with limited lighting, and that changes everything immensely.

She browses through some of the clothing her mother’s recently sent her from Betazed. Lwaxana sends her daughter two types of clothes: things Deanna likes to wear and things that Lwaxana wants her to wear (often things that look similar to the clothing hanging in Lwaxana’s own wardrobe rooms). Deanna tries to space out wearing Lwaxana’s clothes. She'll wear them the whole day, but those will definitely be days when Lwaxana will see her.  


Desperate times call for desperate measures.

This dress isn’t exactly something her mother had sent her, but she’s been able to tell the replicator the type of variation she wants. The original dress, deep blue and black, swirling and glittering like the exact type of look Deanna has decided on, is beautiful. But it’s sheer and doesn’t quite provide her with the mobility she wants. She replicates nearly the same shimmering, swirling fabric, with a gold glitter finish instead of a silver one (and a much softer inner fabric). The boatneck drops into sleeves that stop in the middle of her forearms and a gathered waist that flares lose down to her ankles for some swing. She matches that to tights and shoes, and she’s nearly good to go.

All that’s left for her to do is to weave the gold beaded ribbons into the top of her hair - where she’s gathered half of it in a tie that matches her dress - and that’s what she’s working on when Geordi rings promptly at six.

She’s about to shout at him to come in, then thinks better of it. She twists the last silky bit of gold into her hair and meets him in the doorway.

Geordi’s dressed precisely the way he told Deanna he would be - a blue vest and pants over a black button-down. The occasional gold orb on his vest subtly catches the light. If Deanna’s not mistaken, he’s even opted for a VISOR in a shade that matches. “Counselor!” he greets her. “You clean up nicely - but we already knew that.” He playfully offers her his arm.

Deanna takes it. It was such a good idea, taking him to this party. He hasn’t felt this light to her in weeks. He’s genuinely enjoying himself. Even a small reprieve from piecing together his memories in her office does so much. “Don’t sell yourself short. You look smashing.” He beams. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” he says, and leads her down the hallway with a sweep.”

* * *

Beverly walks down the hallway and tugs at her clothes just a little. She doesn’t always enjoy being picked up for outings. This way, she can arrive when she’s ready. (She’s ready on time, of course, but one can’t always plan for these things.)

The dress isn’t anything too special - one-shouldered, fitted to her body from shoulder to floor. It’s soft, like the loose curls she’s decided to wear. She needs to feel comfortable tonight, but it’s the color that makes the statement - a bright and rich scarlet that she rarely dons because it’s a bit much with her hair, in her opinion.

Today, though, it’s just enough.

She hadn’t thought to ask Will what he was wearing. She wouldn’t even be considering it now if Geordi hadn’t called her before bed to ask her about her perception of Deanna’s style. Maybe she should have, because he answers the door wearing a robe over dress trousers.

“Hi,” she says, masking her surprise.

“Hi.” There’s a beat, and then he steps back to let her in. “Sorry about the delay. I thought I might wait to see what you were wearing, since everyone seemed to want to be matching up.”

“Everyone?”

“I think Deanna and Geordi started a trend.”

Beverly chuckles. “Don’t mind me. Wear what you’d like.”

“I was considering something of the violet variety,” he explains. He looks her over. “That maybe would have been a little bright, with this. Nice color.”

“I don’t wear it very often.” Here’s the other thing she likes about this dress: there’s so much red going on that she can blush several shades without anyone noticing.

“Maybe you should,” he tells her, and Beverly tries to sit on the couch as gingerly as she can, like she’ll tip a balance or something if she moves too much. “If you like it, anyway.”

Beverly smiles and lets herself stretch a little, spreading her arms along the back of the couch. It feels good. She’s still so fatigued from the climbing with Selar. “Alright, if violet’s out, then what’s left?”

Will laughs. “Don’t give up on the violet just yet,” he says. “I’ll be back.” He disappears into the next room. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m alright,” Beverly answers, rolling her neck from side to side. She closes her eyes for a moment. It’s so easy to slip into nervousness, except she keeps reminding herself that these are people she knows and trusts, and then it’s so comfortable that she almost feels like she’s home.

“Hey.”

Beverly opens her eyes. He’s gone with a violet after all, a deep plum. “Hey. Nice shirt.”

He sits down beside her, and she moves her arms back to her sides to make room. “Are you nervous?”

“Sometimes,” she says, reassuring, something she hopes will come across as an act of good faith. “You know how it is, sometimes, when you first start seeing someone.”

A statement that’s also a question: “We’re seeing each other.”

“Well…” And it sounds a little ridiculous to Beverly, because the Will who’s her friend and commanding officer and the Will who she kissed a few nights ago are the same person. She knows him both better and not as well as she thinks. It’s like all of this is too formal for the way they should actually be acting around each other, but then at the same time, being too informal could really hurt one or both of them. “Yes, don’t you think?”

“Do you think it’s too fast?”

“If you’re--”

Will shakes his head. “Is it too fast for you?”

Beverly is suddenly very conscious of where her hands are, dead weights on either side of her on the couch, and that she wholeheartedly means what she’s about to say. “No. You?”

“No. I mean, I still have trouble telling if some of the thoughts I’m having are me or not, but there are times when I just  _ know  _ it’s me, and in those times - yeah, answer’s still no.”

She’s not tired. She’s not craving for closure. There’s a spot of her that still feels vulnerable in a way that she was never before, when it comes to him, but Beverly also knows that most of him is still the same, the parts that matter - the brave and the good and the caring, the man who backs her up on good faith and cares enough about her to have stayed honest throughout all of this.

For these reasons, among others, she kisses him.

There’s no ambiguity this time about who’s kissing whom. He _is_ Will, and there are parts of him that are Odan that are also Will, and she kisses those too. His mouth is soft, and his clothes are coarse under her fingers when she grasps his forearms lightly, an act as much about care as it is about commitment. 

He kisses her back, lips parting, hands coming to rest on the tops of her thighs, then her hips, then her waist. And they have a whole night ahead of them, but in a lot of ways, it’s their first kiss, so she lets herself get a little carried away, pulls him into her, leans back onto his couch and lets herself slide. His arms and back are solid under her palms, and his hands are large over her ribs.

They pull away but remain embracing, his body half on top of hers, one of her legs slung across his lap.

“Want to go?”

Beverly nods, even laughs a little. They sit up, and she laughs a little, smoothing her hair back, and when he prompts her with a look, she turns around and lets him comb it back into place with his fingers, barely brushing the back of her neck.

* * *

“It’s not that I don’t like Risa - I just think it’s a little...overrated. Hear me out!” Keiko holds both hands out in front of her.

She, Miles, Alyssa, Selar, and Geordi have to take one of the standing tables in Ten-Forward; much of the crew’s had the same idea as them, and the sitting tables are past even squeezing capacity by the time they enter. She wears a draping silver tunic over green leggings and matching shoes. Pink flowers adorn her shoulder, where the fabric gathers.

“That’s not entirely fair - Alyssa’s never been,” Miles tells her. His shift starts right after this one, so he’s already in uniform.

Keiko waves away his comment. “All she’s heard is about what a paradise it is. You need to manage your expectations,” she says to Alyssa, who just smiles in response. She wears an empire-waisted halter dress in emerald green and has clipped something shiny into her hair on the right side.

“Alyssa and I both prefer the cold,” Selar proffers, nodding to Keiko’s frosted drink as if to accentuate her point. For most of those gathered, it’s their first time to see her in leisure attire. She wears a shorter version of the customary Vulcan robes - lilac over powder blue. “However, I have been to Risa once during my Academy days, and I must say that I found it quite agreeable.” 

Deanna and Geordi look at each other, neither able to control the giant grins that spread across their faces.

“You must tell me about that trip sometime,” Deanna says, and Geordi claps a hand over his mouth to hold back a snort.  


He struggles to contain himself in the face of Selar’s raised brow. “I mean, there’s only one way to find out. But you have to go three times - once with someone you’re dating, once with a group of your friends, and once alone.” The table nods in agreement.

“I’m sure when you come back, you can tell us all about it,” reassures Deanna, patting her arm. Will and Beverly enter then, and Deanna quickly raises her glass to her lips to hide her amusement.

Everyone else turns around. “Sorry we’re late,” offers Beverly, as Will and Deanna exchange glances - a playful glare and amusement, respectively.

“No way, you’re just in time!” Geordi says, as the table shifts to try and accommodate two more bodies. “We were just discussing the possibility that Risa may be overrated.”

“That’s not a possibility,” Will says immediately. It’s Deanna’s turn to hide a smile behind her hand.

“Oh, is this about you not having gone?” Beverly asks Alyssa. Alyssa nods. “Look, there’s only one first time on Risa. You kind of just have to go and see for yourself. Of course, all times after will pale in comparison--”

“Tell us about your first time,” Deanna says, leaning in, smirking.  


Beverly laughs and holds her hands up. “That’s not what I was volunteering to do."

Geordi peers at Beverly curiously. “When did you first go to Risa?”

Everyone stares.

“I was nineteen,” Beverly laughs. “None of you would have wanted to know me back then.”

“Impressive,” remarks Selar, taking another sip of her drink. "However, I think you are wrong. I would have wanted to know you." Deanna and Geordi exchange another gleeful look, and Will shakes his head good-naturedly.  


Miles raises his hand. “Eighteen.” Everyone turns to look at him, except for Keiko, who’s beaming.

“It’s the greatest story - honey, you should tell it--”

Miles downs the rest of his drink and grimaces. “Some other time. Duty calls.” He kisses Keiko goodbye (she’s not even trying to hide her disappointment) and joins the other officers - most of whom are also in uniform - filing out of the room for the night shift.

Beverly sighs. That also meant that it was time for her to report to astrometrics, a little ahead of everyone else, for final party set-up. She hasn’t eaten since her afternoon coffee and barely had a chance to secure a drink. “Duty calls indeed. That’s our cue, Selar.” Selar nods, puts down her glass, touches Alyssa very briefly on her elbow, and walks to the door. Beverly follows.

Three people short, the circle closes somewhat. It’s somehow understood that Deanna and Alyssa switch, so Alyssa’s standing next to Keiko and Deanna’s standing next to Will, with Geordi on his other side.

“Don’t you two have to go as well?” Keiko asks Alyssa and Deanna.

“We’re not on the party planning committee,” Deanna explains, “and Alyssa wasn’t picked to be one of the new ensigns to help out.”

“She wasn’t picked to be hazed, you mean,” Will offers.

Deanna smirks. “Maybe that’s how you used to do it down in engineering, but over here in medical, we’re very happy to lend a hand.”

“I mean, I tried to be included, but sign-ups were already closed,” Alyssa admits. “I really wanted to see what astrometrics was doing first.”

“It’s tradition,” Deanna tells her warmly. “I participated my second year on the ship. I’m sure you will soon.”

* * *

“Ensign Georgiou, you have done satisfactory work. You are relieved. Go have a cookie.”

Ximena Georgiou drops her arms (finally!) with a sigh. She’s been holding a power relay component in place for what seems like  _ forever _ . One would think that they would have figured out a way to manipulate antigravity to help decorate the room of a starship. “Thank you, Doctor Selar,” she says quickly. Hopefully her sigh wouldn’t be interpreted as petulance. Maybe Selar would chalk it up to something emotional and not think about it too much.  


Or, maybe she would and Ximena would be branded forever as an emotional nurse. That would suck. She's descended from one of the most famous Starfleet captains ever and part-Orion to boot. She spends way too much time cultivating her loaded, loaded image to lose everything to a sigh.

Oh God.

“Thank you,” Selar replies. “You are an integral part of this crew.” The room completely set up with about ten minutes to spare, Selar walks away to the refreshments table.

Ximena can handle idle time and compliments, but they’re a little hard to handle together. She’s not sure what else to do, so she takes her cookie and secures a seat farthest away from the door, one that will give her a really good look around the room. There are about ten other ensigns and technicians in the room, all coming to the end of their party set-up duties. They’ll probably end up sitting together like they often do after shift, talking about everything from the strange cases they’ve gotten that day to the next place they’re going to take shore leave with their families. But this is a bigger social gathering, and Ximena likes those best when she can watch what’s going on in front of her.

She’s been on this ship for nearly four years. She understands the insight that comes from a change in perspective.

It however doesn’t completely keep her from interacting with other people. “Ensign,” says a familiar voice, and she looks up to see Dr. Crusher the way she always looks when she’s very pleased - a little flushed, almost like she’s a moment away from making the air around her hum.

“Hi, Dr. Crusher,” she greets. “I’m liking this look.” It’s not really a secret that the  _ Enterprise _ ’s medical division more or less drives the fashion on the ship, and she’d be comfortable betting a couple of swing shifts that they indirectly affect the way the rest of the fleet dresses in their off-hours. Still, this look is a step up for her boss. Good for her, bouncing back so fast. That Trill ambassador really had her in the dumps for a while. As a staff, they’d spent the following weeks practicing the delicate art of watching out for her at work while not looking like they were doing anything different.

She’s honestly kind of glad she hasn’t experienced serious dating on a starship. Maybe it’s her Sickbay perspective, but the whole thing looks like it’s more trouble than it’s worth.

“I’m liking yours,” Beverly tells her, gesturing to her crossed legs. Ximena wears the same dress to all ship functions. It’s black. It fits really well. She just changes the tights she wears under it. She can’t quite bring herself to stomach the way everyone on the ship matches their legwear to their shoes, so she tucks her splattery rainbow tights today into shoes that shine silver.

Ximena shrugs. “I try.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t want to sit over at that table?” Dr. Crusher asks her, gesturing to the next table over, a chair at a slightly different angle. “You might be able to see more of the room that way.”

She can’t help but smile. “I think this seat gives me a slightly better view of the stellar projections,” she explains. “There will be a few less people sitting in my line of sight.” She’d gotten to see the projection briefly while they were testing it (and her arms were slowly draining all of their blood back into her body). There are mirror projections involved that make the entire room look like it’s spinning into an infinity sky of colored orbs and stars. Ximena had unconsciously grabbed onto the back of a chair to assure herself that she wasn’t floating away.

Engineering can suck it. It’s easily going to be the best ship party of the year (except for Guinan’s First Contact parties - Guinan’s First Contact parties lie on another plane of existence).

“Oh, I didn’t think of that. Enjoy the people watching. And the presentation.”

“Thanks, Dr. Crusher.”

“Also, nice work on the setup group. We’re lucky to have you in Sickbay.” She’s probably going around and telling everyone in the room the same thing, but that doesn’t diminish the way it makes Ximena feel. 

“Thanks,” she repeats, and Dr. Crusher smiles like she’d said something much more profound and moves on.

Half an hour later, the room’s full of med staff and their dates, Ximena’s stacked her plate from the replicated buffet, and she’s back in the corner, contentedly tapping her foot to the music pulsing through the room. It’s the perfect volume - good enough for dancing but also tailored for conversation.

That said, Dr. Asenzi and Nurse Itoh are definitely in the running to win the dance floor. They’ve decided to start the dancing tonight and are the only people out there, but others will join soon. She hasn’t seen them hanging out that much outside of work before, and that’s a piece of information she files away for later.

Selar and Alyssa are definitely her favorite people to watch and have been for the past month. They drift around each other, almost in orbit. Even when they’re far apart, there’s this sense of them knowing where the other one is. It’s a more intense version of the way that they work together. Eventually, they gravitate toward Keiko, who’s been spending the whole party floating from person to person.

The most intriguing people to watch are Dr. Crusher and Commander Riker. Ximena knows what it looks like when people are hooking up with their friends. She knows what it looks like when people are falling for their friends. She even knows what it looks like when two friends start a relationship after hooking up with each other, and this is what they have.

It’s not super obvious, but it’s there. It is however overtly obvious - as it always has been to Ximena - that Commander Riker’s still got his fluid-label life-partner thing going with Counselor Troi, who’s come to the party with Lieutenant La Forge. They’ve now joined Asenzi and Itoh on the floor with a dancing style that mostly consists of him twirling her around. Her dress catches the light and shimmers. Their heads are thrown back, laughing. When they tire of the twirling, they go back to mostly hopping in place on one foot, then the other.

They’re all going around and greeting the party guests, but it’s there a little bit - one of Commander Riker and Counselor Troi’s looks even though they’re at opposite ends of the room, the way that Dr. Crusher leans in to tell Commander Riker something over the music. He smiles at her the way he always has with his close friends, except now it’s a few shades more tender, with a bit of that smoulder some of her fellow crewmates have told her about, blushing, over lunch.

She doesn’t know what makes it different now than it does before. It’s like someone’s upped the saturation on a view screen just a little, and that little was all it took to change the way the whole scene comes across.

It strikes her as a bit unfair. Ximena supposes that the big-gun ships are the ones with the colorful senior staffs, but she also listens to a handful of giggling confessions a week from her fellow crewmates about how  _ attractive _ they all are, what it would be like to share more than just a command chain with them. Meanwhile, all she wanted was to have a perfectly unassuming relationship with one of the junior science officers, and that person transferred off the ship as soon as possible after the Borg attack.

Dr. Crusher has to go give her welcome speech now, so she figures that they’re going to be turning off the lights soon to begin the show that’ll last for the rest of the party. She leaves for the stage that Ximena and the other ensigns have helped set up. Commander Riker flashes her a smile before Dr. Crusher goes, though. It’s full of promise.

Ah well, she doesn’t need a relationship when all of this is happening right in front of her. Her family’s served on starships on and off for generations. She’d joined the Academy because she didn’t know what to do with her life, but her name meant something there, and that made it marginally a better option than doing anything else. She doesn’t mind nursing, but she stays for the stories - the ones the other officers tell her, the new worlds her crewmates discover and tell her about during their physicals, and the ones that happen right in front of her (because she knows where to look).

“Ensign Georgiou, how are you doing?”

It’s almost certainly Counselor Troi at her elbow, which should be impossible because the woman was standing right in her line of sight a few minutes ago. Unless-- _ how did she _ \-- “Hi, Counselor. Nice party, huh?”

“ _ Amazing party _ ,” says the counselor. They haven’t spoken as much lately as they usually do. The counselor’s usually a fun person to gossip to, and her empathy means that she knows never to ask Ximena about her name and family members she barely knows anything about. But it feels different now that Ximena’s had to spend time in her office, as she was supposed to after the Borg attack. There hadn’t been much to say. Ximena hadn’t been seriously injured, but all her friends on the ship had either died or left.

She’d cried. Counselor Troi had comforted her. Standard fare, she guesses. Counselor Troi is a comforting presence. At least nothing more serious had happened to her.

“So, what brings you to my corner?” Counselor Troi belongs in the thick of parties, seeing. Being seen.

“I’m hearing that they want some extra help with the show - I know you helped set it up. Do you want to lend a hand?”

Ximena shrugs. It’s not like she has anything better to do. This way, she’ll have a better view - people are already beginning to crowd the stage. “Sure.”

* * *

The stage isn’t a huge one - just slightly elevated above the crowd so that Dr. Crusher can be seen over the heads of some of the taller races on the ship. She climbs the steps and extends her arms. “Starfleet Med, how’s everyone doing tonight?” she calls out in her stage voice.

She’s answered with a small cheer, as those dancing turn around and look for the source of the noise.

Deanna appears at Will’s elbow. “Hey,” he says, nudging her shoulder with his arm. “Where have you been? Getting fresh with your date, were you?”

Deanna rolls her eyes and swats him, nodding to the corner, where he and Ensign Georgiou are poised ready with lasers and some other equipment. “Just making things feel a little more inclusive,” she says with a shrug. “The Captain’s still on the bridge?”

Will nods. “There’s some Klingon business happening.”

“I can’t hear you!” Beverly bellows. “How’s everyone doing tonight?”

Will looks at Deanna, who raises her eyebrows playfully, and they, along with the rest of those gathered, let out a loud cheer.

Now that things are a little quieter, Beverly drops back into her stage voice. “That’s more like it. Now, I know that we’re just one department on a ship that has plenty of other working parts--”

“Med’s the best!” yells Alyssa, and Will turns around to look at her. He’s never heard her raise her voice before.

“ _ Med’s the best _ !” the crowd cheers. Those holding drinks raise them and keep cheering.

Beverly laughs and holds out her hands until the cheering dissipates. “Thank you. You take the words right out of my mouth.” More cheering. The group of astrometrics officers standing next to Deanna roll their eyes good-naturedly. “That said, I want to thank those who aren’t med tonight, for helping us put on this shindig and for raising our attendance numbers through the roof. We’ll remember this the next time we need to get out of bed to treat you in the middle of the night.”

Another round of cheering, this time from the others in the crowd. It’s the medical staff’s turn to chuckle with chagrin.

“I think it goes without saying that we’re all here in some form or another for discovery, fascination with life and the unknown,” Beverly tells the crowd. “There are those of us here who take initial oaths to preserve life and to limit harm. I’ve always loved that goal. It’s noble and a part of me as much as it is my job to direct all of you.”

“Yeah, Dr. Crusher!” someone cheers - it’s too far away for Will to tell. More cheering.

Beverly laughs. “Thank you, crewman. Anyway, I don’t want to take up too much of your time - we all know what we’re here for--” She holds up her hands to halt another round of cheering. “Look, I know it’s been a hard year, and I’m especially proud of all of you who have been through it and stayed, just as I am of all of you who came onboard knowing what can happen in this line of work. Every day, we come to work and we fight to preserve life and learn about it at the same time. I’m proud every day I wake up and come to work on this ship, and I’m especially proud of the good faith you put into me. Leading the charge for this goal is not something I take lightly, and I want you to know how much I appreciate every one of you. Thank you for your service.”

Clapping, no cheers. Deanna’s eyes are shining, Will notices, and she leans into him when he puts an arm around her. She’s not the only one fighting to keep her eyes dry. She pushes gratitude into Will’s mind, the kind that comes from missing touch and then suddenly receiving it in an endless quantity.  _ They needed to hear this. They need all of this so much _ .

He knows Beverly’s pride. It’s the same feeling he has in all of the  _ Enterprise _ ’s crew.  _ We have her because she’s the best _ . Deanna leans into him a little more.

“Okay, one more thing, and then I’ll let you get back to the party. Join me in applauding Dr. Selar, for not only being a fantastic physician but also for helping me liaise with astrometrics for this fantastic party.”

There’s another round of cheering and a shuffle in the crowd as people move out of the way to let Selar make her way to the stage. Beverly moves out of the way, squeezing her shoulder.

“Thank you, Dr. Crusher,” Selar says. “And thank you to Dr. Hill. If it were not for a bet, I would not be hosting this party for a second time in such a short while.” She’s answered with cheers and hoots. Will can’t see Dr. Hill, but he imagines the doctor’s grinning from ear to ear. “However, it is no trouble, as the medical staff are clearly the superior--”

“Med’s the best!”

“Blue’s the best hue!”

Selar nods decisively. “It certainly is. Also, please join me in thanking Dr. Crusher for guiding me in planning this gathering as well as leading the department.” The room erupts in cheers, and Selar steps back, nodding to Beverly.

“If I’m not mistaken, we have a show for you,” Beverly says, with a sideways glance at Geordi, Ximena Georgiou, and Ensign Moezer, who wave back at her. “But before we begin...who’s best?”

Will shifts a little, amused, Deanna lifts an arm into the air and joins in. “ _ Med’s the best _ !”

“Who’s best?”

“ _ Med’s the best! _ ”

“Pigment true?”

“ _ Blue’s the best hue! _ ”

_ Terrible Denobulan translation _ , Deanna explains quickly.  _ It was so bad it stuck, though, so it’s kind of become tradition, even though a better translation exists. _

_ I’m guessing that one doesn’t rhyme? _

Deanna grins a little more through her cheering.  _ Not in Standard, anyway _ .

“Pigment true?

“ _ Blue’s the best hue! _ ”

He’s not sure who in the corner has a flair for the dramatic, but the room suddenly goes dark at that moment, to surprised noises of the crowd.

And then, it’s full of light.

It’s like the room has been frozen in the middle of shattering a nebula, with orbs of every color lining the darkness. Reflections make the room look much bigger than it did before, the colored lights stretching out into infinity.

Deanna sighs into his head.  _ Gods _ .

“Wow,” he says quietly, as murmurs of appreciation arise from the space around them. Despite the lights, they can’t see anything or anyone well enough. She wraps her arms around him.

A few moments later, the lights come up ever so minimally - just enough so that, if walking, people could see where they were going. Will sees that much of the crowd has come together like he and Deanna have. People are holding hands, linking arms, resting their chins on others’ shoulders.

“Hello, everyone. Uh, for those of you who don’t know me, I’m Lieutenant Commander Kusaama, assistant head of astrometrics.” Will also sees that, despite the darkness, she’s somehow had no problems making her way out of the crowd onto stage.

_ Part Aenar _ , comes the voice in his head.  _ She doesn’t really need light to see. _

“We’re going to keep the lights like this for the rest of the party so that you all can see, but if you have questions about this projection technology, you can find me or any member of astrometrics. But basically, what it comes down to is that space is infinite, and while it’s our workplace, it’s also terrifying. And beautiful.” She clears her throat. “Enjoy the party.”

The music cues back up then, and he looks down at Deanna looking up at him, soft and wondrous. “Dance?” she asks.

He holds out a hand. “Of course.”

* * *

She’s not dancing nearly as much as she wants to (she has a  _ reputation _ to protect, dammit), but there’s a waltz on, and even though Keiko’s been the equivalent of a social butterfly the whole party, she looks a little too enthusiastic for someone sitting alone, swaying to the music.

“Shall we dance?” she asks her, and Keiko takes her arm. They begin their dance. Unlike other couples, who have claimed a small spot on the floor, Beverly leads Keiko around the perimeter, making a circle.

Keiko smiles. “The dancing doctor.” Beverly sighs and twirls her. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. At least you know what you’re doing.”

Beverly gives her a half-smile. “It’s only appropriate, don’t you think?” She tilts her head toward the lights around them. “When you’re surrounded by this, you want to be in motion.”

They’re silent and content, making a few more rounds until Kusaama appears and gestures to cut in. Beverly moves aside, and Geordi swoops in with a little bow. “Come on, Doc, let’s move those feet.”

Beverly laughs and leads him around the same circle. “Astrometrics has style,” she tells him.

“It kind of makes you want to look outside more,” he chuckles. “It’s so easy to get used to all of it, when you forget that out there it looks something like this.”

“So we’ll look outside more,” says Beverly.

A frown crosses Geordi’s face. “It’s just when what’s out there sees you and doesn’t want you looking…” He trails off, but Beverly doesn’t have enough time to look concerned.

She stops dancing. “Jean-Luc,” she says, surprised. “I wasn’t expecting you to make it.” Ximena Georgiou takes Geordi’s hand then and leads him away.

Interesting. Beverly’s never seen her dance before.

“Forgive me for my tardiness,” he tells her. “I was caught up in some business on the bridge.” He takes her hands, and they begin to waltz. He’s leading, so they remain in one spot.

“Everything’s alright, I hope?”

“For now, at least,” he says, then smiles. “But this isn’t the time for that. You’ve thrown a wonderful party. Dr. Selar was catching me up on everything. You both got creative with this one.”

“Just a change in perspective.” She misses him, she realizes. They haven’t been having their breakfasts lately, at first because she didn’t feel like being with anyone. Then, her holodeck time with Selar was taking up all her time (she’s still not fully recovered from that - her limbs are probably going to give out the moment she lies down in bed). She hasn’t realized it until now, but the last time they stopped having meals together was when he was recovering from the Borg. That’s when she was coming in the evenings instead of the mornings, the both of them sitting in silence more often than not. But she’d known that it was the right thing to do.

She looks at him and knows he’s thinking it too. “How are you, Beverly?”

It’s a question that encompasses so much more than usual. “Better,” she says truthfully. “Maybe we should talk more about it over breakfast.” He smiles. “Perhaps not tomorrow - I think this party might go late - but the next day?”

“I’d really appreciate that,” he tells her. Then, he stops and taps his comm badge. “Picard here.” A pause. “I’ll take it in my ready room.”

He has the grace to look at her apologetically, like this kind of thing hasn’t happened so many times before. “Go, Jean-Luc. Thanks for stopping by. I’m sure everyone appreciates it.”

At his exit, Beverly figures it might be a good time to sit down. She’s off the floor, heading for a table in the corner (she hasn’t decided if she wants to grab a bite to eat while she’s at it, and the buffet table’s over there) when a small hand grabs hers. Even without looking, she’d know that grasp anywhere. She turns around.

“Someone like you dressed like that,” Deanna says with a small smile. “You should be doing the opposite of sitting out.” The waltz ends, and an even slower song starts.

No one has to ask; they fall into this: Deanna reaches up and locks her hands behind Beverly’s neck, Beverly’s arms around her waist. They’re almost touching, and Beverly resists the urge to rest her head on Deanna’s forehead.

“I think maybe you know what this has done for them,” Deanna says, nodding at the dance floor behind her, where nearly everyone is swaying in some form of dance or another amongst countless tiny lights. “I can feel it. It means so much.”

Deanna’s dress glitters on the outside, but the fabric is smooth as silk and warm under her hands. “It wasn’t just me,” she says, but Deanna leans into her chest anyway, and now there are countless black curls under her chin. “Hey.”

“This is alright, right?”

Beverly reaches up and smooths down the back of her hair, resting her hand there for a moment. “Of course.” And then, because she’s curious: “You really think falling in love is as simple as seeing someone the right way?”

Deanna nods against her chest. “Look at it like this. Multiple universes exist - you’ve read the stories. What separates us from each one? One choice.” Beverly looks out into the infinity of lit spots around them. “Many beings, many choices. The outcomes are different, but we’re closer to them than we think. What makes you choose dinner in Ten-Forward or dinner in your quarters? Sometimes, there’s a reason, but other times, you’re just picking from appealing choices without too much thought of the outcome.

Beverly’s arm burns a little from holding it up. She drops it to Deanna’s waist again. “Love’s one of those things?”

“Love is the way this room looks right now - infinite. Or I think so. So to limit it in any way - it just doesn’t make sense.” She pulls back so she can look at her friend directly. “And if love begins this way, is it not as genuine as any other?”

Thinking of Kareel Odan makes her ache for a more open heart, one that would have been willing to traverse space. But she has people here and now willing to traverse whole bodies for her, people who are safe and warm and  _ know her _ .

She smiles at her, wondering if she projects enough warmth and trust into the look, Deanna will just feel it, because she’s not sure how to articulate this. “Deanna?”

“Yes, Beverly?”

The party’s winding down, people gliding out of the room back into the lit hallways of the ship.

“You can call him from here, can’t you?”

Deanna nods, smiling. “I can. What do you want me to tell him?”

“I just want him to watch this.” Deanna pauses, then nods; he’s watching. Beverly trusts this, because she thinks if she looks away, she’ll lose her nerve.

Lights shimmering around them, Beverly lifts one hand into her hair again, leans down, and kisses her, lingering, sweet.

When they pull away, Beverly almost gasps; she’s forgotten to breathe, and infinite lights are reflecting in Deanna’s dark eyes.

“I know I can’t lie to you, but I’ll say it anyway - I’m scared,” Beverly admits. “I want you, though, and I want this, but I might need you to help me.”

Deanna raises one hand to Beverly’s cheek. “Are you sure?”

“Do you remember what you told me in Ten-Forward, when Will was Odan?”

Deanna nods. “Accept the love.” A pause, while Beverly nods. “Should we leave?” Another nod.  


So they go.

* * *

The lights of the hallway are the real test; the magic of lit infinity is gone, but Beverly doesn’t waver. She’s leading; Deanna and Will just follow.

_ You’re okay with this, right? _

Deanna just looks at him.

_ Geez, fine. I just wanted to ask _ .

Deanna smiles and takes his arm.

The door slides shut behind them in Beverly’s quarters, and Beverly's nervousness floods her senses  


A glance at Will.  _ Follow my lead, okay? _

_ Always. _

Deanna takes a single step forward, lightly touches Beverly’s bare shoulder. “You’re still sore, aren’t you?” Beverly nods. “Can we help you with that?”

* * *

They sit her down on her bed - Will kneeling behind her, Deanna in front. Deanna kisses her mouth. Will kisses her neck, then meets Deanna’s eyes in front, mouth still hovering by Beverly’s ear.

“We can say everything out loud for you if you want,” he tells her.

Beverly’s already relaxed - it must have been the first move that was causing her some trepidation. She leans back into Will’s chest, taking both of Deanna’s hands in her own. “What does that mean?” she murmurs, closing her eyes.

“We say everything out loud, no telepathy,” Deanna says, squeezing Beverly’s hands.

Beverly’s eyes flutter open. “Oh. No, of course not. Speak whatever language to each other that you want.”

Deanna meets Will’s eyes.

_ You heard her _ , he says, laughter in the thought. Deanna smiles and lets go, reaching for the massage oil. She rubs some between her hands - something light and sweet - and begins with Beverly’s feet.

The response is immediate. Beverly inhales sharply and leans back a little more. Deanna concentrates on rubbing the oil in. It’s a little sad. She’s always known that Beverly’s not touched nearly as much as she wants to be, but the need she’s getting right now is so intense; she hadn’t known that it was like this.

“You’re so beautiful,” Will tells her, kissing her neck again, down the line of her bare shoulder. He slides the other sleeve down to the middle of her arm. He begins work on her neck, where the muscles are so taut that he wins another sharp intake of air. “Too hard?”

“I’ll tell you if it’s too hard,” Beverly says, a little commanding, and their desire - both of theirs - flares against Deanna’s mind. She smiles, still looking down at Beverly’s feet. She works her way from sole to heel.

“Harder then?” Deanna asks her lightly.

“Mm...yes.” Beverly’s breath hitches as one of them - Deanna’s not sure which - finds a knot.

“Are you normally this tense?” Will asks her. Deanna concentrates; she can almost feel it now, stiff muscles under her hands, different than the thin ligaments and bone under hers.

“You don’t usually notice something if it’s the norm,” Beverly answers. Deanna finishes her feet and works her way up to her calves, not as much of a massage here but spreading the oil so it saturates her skin.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Will says, playful concern. Deanna watches as he drops another kiss to her shoulder. “We’ll do this to you more often.”

Beverly makes a happy noise. “Are you offering?”

Deanna smirks and pushes Beverly’s dress up around her knees, continuing to the bottom of her upper thighs. Briefly, she kisses just behind her knee, and Beverly shivers. “Consider it an order,” Deanna tells her.  _ Are you okay? _

Will’s laugh in her head is a little strained.  _ Yeah. Absolutely. Nothing sexy happening in front of me at all _ . He slides the sleeve the rest of the way down, effectively sliding the dress down to just below her breasts. It’s not the kind of garment that requires upper support, so she’s not wearing a bra. There’s a second of vulnerability that slides into arousal, that rich, warm-tinted velvet that Deanna loves.

She slides her hands further up Beverly’s thighs, hands disappearing under her skirt. “You look beautiful.” She slides her hands back and then forward again, and Beverly almost-moans. “You feel beautiful.”

“You look beautiful, Deanna,” Will says, a little rough, and when he slides his hands down Beverly’s back, she definitely hums her pleasure, then opens her eyes.

“He’s right,” she says, and then she leans back, and it's like her mind is purring. “This is the part where I get undressed.” That earns her grins from both of them.

“Stand up then,” Will says, in that same rough voice, and - gods help her - Deanna pushes herself up on the bed to kiss Beverly again, longer, their tongues sliding together, hungry.

It’s a little faster, then - Beverly takes the opportunity to push Deanna’s dress down to her elbows, and then they both stand, Beverly lifting Deanna’s dress up over her head, Deanna and Will pushing Beverly’s dress down to the floor together - and then they’re all on Beverly’s bed, Beverly straddling Will’s waist to work on his shirt, Deanna taking his pants.

And then, they’re paused, both of them crouched over him.

_ Fuck _ . It’s strained and beautiful, and it feels like it’s been ages since she’s been able to touch him like this, and she can’t help herself - she slides her hand over him through the fabric of his shorts. “Fuck,” he says, out loud, and for some reason, that’s a turn-on for Beverly. She leans down and kisses him hard. He reaches up, runs a thumb over one of her nipples, and Deanna had been planning to finish out this massage, but the sound Beverly makes when he touches her is so arousing that Deanna has to crawl up to the head of the bed and kiss her herself.

There’s a growl of pleasure - Will’s, watching both of them kiss above him - and then Beverly’s sliding off his chest, he’s sitting up, and the three of them are kneeling on her bed, looking at each other, breathing hard.

“Raincheck on the massage, then?” Beverly asks, voice a little dry.

* * *

He hasn’t touched her in so long, and that can’t be the real case - they’ve been like this a few times before since serving here - but touching Deanna always feels like what he imagines water must be to a dessert. He needs her. He drinks her in, body and mind. He can’t have enough.

Beverly’s sitting at the head of her bed, biting her lip. He tries not to look at her too much, because her legs are spread in front of her carelessly, and he knows she’s soaked through her underwear - she’d put both their hands there, his and Deanna’s (moans, from all three of them, and he can feel Deanna’s centered desire just as clearly as he feels his own cock aching), kissed both of them, and then asked to watch what she’s watching them do right now.

She’d wanted to know what they were like together, she’d told them. It would help her understand better, maybe.

So, they’d kissed, heavy, and he’d slid off her bra because she’d still been wearing one, and now she’s sitting in his lap, golden silk in her hair ribboning the curtain her hair makes around his face, and they’re trying to kiss, but their hands are in each other’s underwear ( _ Keep it on _ , Deanna had told him.  _ We should do this together _ .), and even though Beverly had told them it was alright, she’s making an effort to make sounds out loud as well as in his head, and it’s so  _ damn distracting _ . So much of her skin on his skin - her chest pressed against his, soft; her hand around his cock, agonizingly slow and a little rough; his fingers on her clit, slick, dripping; her other hand on his shoulder, gripping.

He doesn’t know how he hears Beverly’s moan, with all the noise they’re making, but Deanna hears it too, and they turn around to see her, mouth open, hand between her legs, face flushed.

“Sorry,” she tells them. “You both are so--” She trails off. “--in love?”

He doesn’t know how he’s going to survive for a moment, because Deanna’s taking her hand away and  _ grinding _ on him, eyes on him. “Can we touch you now?” she asks, and her voice makes it sound like she’s asking for the latest personnel reports, but she’s looking at him like she’s about to  _ devour _ him. Or her. Or both of them.

The bed shifts; Beverly’s moving. She pulls Deanna up to her knees and hugs her from behind, hand on one of her breasts, and Will wraps his hands around Deanna’s thighs.

“Is that a yes?” Deanna moans, smiling, leaning back against Beverly’s shoulder.

Beverly kisses her neck. “Call him by it out loud.”

Deanna’s eyes flutter open then, in a little bit of confusion, and then she understands. She reaches for him, so he pulls himself to his knees and wraps himself in her, in both of them. “My imzadi,” she murmurs, and kisses him.

* * *

“Imzadi,” he groans, and Beverly doesn’t know whose hands are where. She touched them so much, and she’s a little tired, but it’s just the right kind, the kind that’s a little like intoxication, and makes her think less and feel more. She has Will in her hand and Deanna on her tongue, and at one point (oh my  _ god _ ) they’d gone down on her together, and she’s still not sure how they managed that, because her eyes were closed and she had her hands twisted in the sheets.

She’s supposed - possibly always, even in Deanna’s case - that both of them would be incredible in bed, and they are. Together, they’re even more, and Odan - in all forms - had always been so gentle, and this is definitely not. But it’s just as loving, and her body’s burning, but once she’s become acclimated to what this is like - to have so many hands on her all the time, it’s like she  _ needs _ to have her mouth and hands on one of them - it doesn’t matter who.

Deanna flops sideways, and Will follows. The bed shakes as they fall on either side of her, and it’s like instinct now - she reaches for both of them and turns to Deanna (she’s nearer) to kiss whatever bit of skin she can find (her ribs).

Deanna bucks against her hand and moans something high-pitched “Beverly,” she says, dragging it out, and there’s a faint corner of Beverly’s mind that’s wondering how she’s ever going to be able to listen to her say her name again, now that she knows that her name in her mouth can sound like  _ that _ . “Beverly, it’s so hard to wait. I want--he wants--”

Beverly pulls herself up on her side and leans over Deanna, kissing her, and their free hands fall between each other’s legs. “Will.”

“Beverly, I--” He scoots in behind her so she can grind on his cock. “ _ Beverly _ .” He slings an arm over her side and touches her breast the way that he’s learned she likes - soft, moving, all over.

“I love you,” Beverly says, and she’s not sure what form it takes, but she pushes that out into the air around them because Deanna will know. “How do we do this?”

“I love you.” Deanna’s hand joins Will’s on her breast. “You want to be inside her?”

“God, yes,” he breathes, right into her ear, and she can’t help but moan a little, because it’s just  _ so much _ , and she’s not used to being wanted like this.

Still, she’s a little concerned. “Are you sure that you--”

Deanna grins wide. “I don’t have to touch him for him to feel.” And she’s said (felt?) something to Will, because he  _ growls _ into her ear.

“ _ God, Deanna _ .” And Beverly has to roll over and kiss him for making a sount like that. It’s like her whole body’s reaching out to him, to both of them.

She pulls him on top of her, Deanna settling at her side, hand back on her clit, mouth next to her ear. Will, shaking, teases her entrance with his cock, and Beverly realizes that she’s glad that he doesn’t look like Odan to her at all.

“And I don’t have to touch him to feel you,” Deanna whispers. She raises one of her hands to Beverly’s shoulder, and Beverly doesn’t know why she’s doing that, but then Will pushes into her, and even though she’s lying down, she has to lean against Deanna’s hand because they’re all moaning, Will’s burying his face in her other shoulder, and then he starts moving, and it's not like she's _not_ having flashbacks to when this happened before, but it's different because there aren't any secrets in this room.  


And it's _so good_. It was good before. It's good now.

“Oh my  _ God _ ,” Beverly moans. She wraps her legs around him and wraps one arm around his shoulders. The other holds Deanna to her side. “This is okay for you?”

“Yes, yes, don’t stop-- _ oh _ .” Deanna drags her mouth along Beverly’s shoulder, and in the part of her mind where she’s still processing thoughts like this, she wonders if she’s holding herself back from a bite. She’ll remember to ask her about that later, maybe.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Will breathes. “Missed this.”

She doesn’t know who he’s talking to. Both of them, maybe. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Her abs are sore but she meets his thrusts anyway, wrapping her hand in his hair. He kisses her, messy, both of them moaning into each other’s mouths.

Deanna’s managed to slide her hand between them, match her hand to their rhythm, and she didn’t know if it was possible, but everything feels even better. “Beverly-- _ hmm _ \--we’re going to come together, okay?”

Beverly nods. She doesn’t know if that’s enough of a response, but Will’s groan tells her that at least one of them’s seen it.

“You have to tell her,” he says. “She can feel but she doesn’t know because she’s never felt you do it before.”

Beverly rolls her head back into the pillow. “Okay, sure. I just-- _ you both _ .”

“You’re extraordinary,” Will tells her. Deanna half-hums, half-moans her approval.

She’s never had to do this before; it’s never been a concern of hers. She feels the familiar burn building, and building.  


“Now,” she whispers.

Deanna cries out.

Beverly comes hard, shaking, and Will’s gasping, shuddering. He kisses her, shudders again. She’s still shaking around him when Deanna turns her head to her and kisses her, whimpering, saying something against her mouth that Beverly can’t quite make out.

* * *

They can’t figure out the best way to hold each other after. Ideally, they’d all be next to each other. Will grumbles something about beds with three-dimensional surfaces, and Deanna promises Beverly that they’ll tell her stories someday about the time they were trapped in an antigravity field overnight. Eventually, Deanna takes the middle because she gets colder more easily than the other two.

Beverly’s drifting off to sleep, her hand interlocked with Will’s across Deanna’s stomach, when Deanna lets out a short giggle. “Tell her, then,” she says, and Beverly answers that by sleepily nuzzling her neck.

“Tell me what?”

“I love you,” Will says, and Beverly’s eyes flutter open. “You don’t have to say anything. I know that it’s probably still a little strange, me looking like--”

Beverly closes her eyes again. “Love you too,” she murmurs. “Not the same as him." She's definitely drifting off now, and Deanna squeezes her hand; she'll explain the rest. It'll be alright.  


Beverly dreams of rainbow-colored lights stretching out to infinity in front of her. She's held, encompassed in comfort.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Leyenn for sparking ideas about the medical side of telepathy and for the character of Ensign Georgiou!
> 
> Kusaama is a reference to Yayoi Kusama. I went to see one of her infinity mirror rooms at her exhibit here, and it was positively gorgeous, and I want to make my entire life look like that room, basically.
> 
> I'm ridiculous, and this is going to have to have an epilogue, so I guess look forward to that? This chapter got so long.


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And though - and she knows this because she’s seen it manifest in a reality of her own - there’s always going to be a part of her terrified that she’s going to lose it, but maybe it’s the way that she believes Starfleet will continue long after she’s gone - all three of them are gone. This feels more stable, somehow. She’s been with these two long enough as colleagues and friends to know that they would never lie to her - or, at least, they will always trust her with the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First thing's first - mild alien drugs are referenced in this chapter - just so it's out there!
> 
> Now! I have the lovely Leyenn to thank for listening to all my Cyndri thoughts at all hours of the day. Ithái is an idea that came from her, and I'm so happy to be able to use it here with her permission.
> 
> And thanks so much to you who have stuck it out with me to the end!!! Of course, it's only the beginning for this series, and there's plenty of other stuff to be explored, but this has been so fun and rewarding to write.

_ “Mom. Mom. Mooooooom.” _

Beverly’s eyes flutter open. A very,  _ very _ naked Deanna is clinging onto her elbow, her breath warm against Beverly’s upper arm. She can feel Will’s hand on her stomach where he’s spilled over after draping over their middleman (middle Betazoid?). She’s naked. Everyone’s naked.

_ “Mom, it’s time to get up. Hurry up, Mom.” _

After she has this realization, several things happen in quick succession: Deanna makes a disgusted noise, attempting to burrow further into Beverly’s (very solid) arm; Will jerks upright; and Beverly, embarrassed, places a hand on her forehead.

“Computer, shut off alarm.” Wesley’s voice stops, and, as programmed, the lights in the room rise to twenty-five percent.

Deanna makes a noise that’s half-annoyed and half-content, then nuzzles Beverly’s arm. Beverly shifts just a little bit so she can place an arm around her. “If you ever have kids,” she tells Will, over the small mountain that is Deanna’s hair, “you’ll figure out that nothing’s going to get your attention faster than their voices.”

Deanna smiles sleepily against Beverly’s arm. “Is that what you would have done if he’d really been in here?” she asks, amusement dripping through her sleepy voice even as it’s part-muffled by Beverly’s arm. “Sat  _ up _ ?”

“ _ Hey! _ ”

“Sorry,” Beverly tells them sheepishly. “I don’t usually have company this hour.”

Will leans over a little and tickles Deanna until she screams. “I have to admit, it’s nice to hear his voice. I miss him a little.”

“ _ Will, stop! _ ”

Will withdraws his hands. “That’s payback.”

But the deed is done, she’s fully awake, and Beverly can already tell that this is a whole other kind of offense, as far as this woman’s concerned. “Hardly,” Deanna says, and gracefully (Beverly has no other word for this - Deanna manages to make rolling around in bed look almost ballet-like) rolls over on top of him, trapping his arms above his head. “You’d better be happy that we all need to figure out how to get ready for work at the same time in this room, or…”

“Or?” Will asks, almost hopeful. Beverly laughs.

Deanna turns to look at Beverly. “...or we’d be able to have a perfectly civil discussion with our good friend Beverly about last night, about the party, about us, and about our boundaries.” Will sighs.

“I mean, you did fall in love with a psychologist,” Beverly reminds him, pulling the blankets up over Deanna a little.

“I fell in love with  _ two _ women in medicine,” he replies, then groans a little. “Fine, who’s replicating the uniforms?”

Deanna glances over at Beverly, a little sparkle in her eye. “I mean, you _are_ the ranking officer,” Beverly says, and Deanna’s already rolling off Will and toward her, pulling her back down into bed.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” they say together, and laugh.

Will rolls his eyes a little, but then his face softens. “It would be my pleasure,” he tells them, and gets out of bed, morning wood clear as day. “So, questions, comments about last night? Issues? Performance reviews?”

“Performance reviews?”

Deanna snuggles into Beverly’s chest. “Okay. So maybe you’re not the first person we’ve had in bed with us--though, hmm, you’re probably the first person we’ve had who we’ve felt this way about.”

"Just laying it out there, are you?" Will calls out from the next room.

"You're giving her too little credit, imzadi."

“You’re not the first couple I’ve had in bed with me," Beverly says.

She forgets to say it loud enough for him to hear, but Will hoots from the next room, and she remembers that's not necessarily a problem with the two of them. “Well,  _ that’s _ a story we’re hearing!”

“Only if you want to,” Deanna says reassuringly.

“But only if you want to! We don’t want to pry!” Will chimes in.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious, so I won't,” Deanna tells her. “But anyway - we sometimes like to see if there are things we can improve upon, especially since we love you, and that’s a situation we’re not in very often.” Beverly holds her a little tighter.

Will returns and tosses their uniforms on the bed. “In ten years, we’ll be able to transport these directly onto our bodies,” he laughs. “Then, we won’t have to get out of bed.”

Beverly frowns, then catches herself, but not before Deanna’s eyes flicker up and meet hers. “Well, I don’t have any complaints,” she tells both of them. “Anything confusing for you?” she asks them (but mostly Will).

“I’m fine. But as your senior officer, I think it’s my duty to tell you that all three of us about to be late for the morning meeting.”

Beverly kisses Deanna, and then they both reach for the uniforms.

“Arborteum when you’re off?” Deanna asks her. “We should go on a proper daytime date anyway.”

It takes a little longer to leave, given that they’re all kissing two people goodbye for the day, but they all manage to make it to the meeting on time.

* * *

“Deanna, stop doing that.”

Beverly lies on the ground in the arborteum, head resting on Deanna’s lap. Will lies on his stomach, watching her fan her hair out with her fingers so it looks like spun copper on her lap. The day was fine, as far as days go, but it was a little unusually busy, processing quite a few patients who appeared to have ingested a mildly intoxicating plant. They were all a little sheepish about it, and the effects were pretty easily helped along with a couple of hyposprays, but it’s still the kind of a thing a doctor is used to dealing with at the Academy with cadets, not on a starship. (Of course, that’s on a normal day, and this was a day that followed a large party.) “Stop doing what?”

Beverly closes her eyes - the artificial sunshine seems brighter today - and waves him away. “It’s fine.”

“The blue and copper look so beautiful together,” Deanna smiles, running her fingers through it once again. “You both looked beautiful last night.”

It had been a relatively uneventful day on the bridge, which has Will thinking - as it always does - that something big’s about to happen soon. But for now, he’s grateful, because that means that everyone gets off shift on time and can just enjoy the sunshine.

“ _ You both _ looked beautiful,” he repeats, reaching out to lay a hand across Beverly’s shoulder, looking up at Deanna. “You both  _ are _ beautiful.”

Beverly’s face clouds for a moment, but Deanna already has on her hand on her cheek. “Tell us, Ithái,” she murmurs.

“Something this morning made me think. Jack used to say that,” she admits, looking up at both of them. “How we’d transport our uniforms on ourselves.” He’d said a lot of other things too - like how they were all they’d ever need, a whole world between them, how much he’d love her even if she’d gone.

She’d never said the same thing back to him. She’d never wanted to admit to him leaving her and Wesley, even when it was happening.

Will’s hand slips into hers. “Did it bother you?” Deanna asks.

Beverly shakes her head slowly. “It’s not like that. I didn’t think I’d be able to have this again.” She’d thought the same thing with Odan, honestly. And though - and she knows this because she’s seen it manifest in a reality of her own - there’s always going to be a part of her terrified that she’s going to lose it, but maybe it’s the way that she believes Starfleet will continue long after she’s gone - all three of them are gone. This feels more stable, somehow. She’s been with these two long enough as colleagues and friends to know that they would never lie to her - or, at least, they will always trust her with the truth.

“This,” Deanna says, a gentle statement that still manages to prompt an answer.

“Love?” Beverly closes her eyes and laughs. “That sounds so stupid.”

Will smiles up at Deanna. “I don’t know. It sounds good to me.”

* * *

Their schedules line up less often than Keiko would like, but she does like that Miles always comes to her when they do. He’s replicated them a picnic, complete with a blanket, and she’s not technically off the clock, but if she sits there and glances over at some sample readings every once in a while during their meal, that works well enough.

“What are you looking at?” she asks him wryly as he unwraps his sandwich.

“Well, everything’s changed, hasn’t it?” he says lightly. “I’m married to a celebrity now.”

Keiko looks away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Miles nods thoughtfully. “Of course you don’t. One of the foremost botanists on the ship present at a party where it’s rumored that mild plant-based hallucinogens were circulating around? Nothing to do with you at all.”

“They can’t prove anything.”

“And you wouldn’t tell anyone. Not even your husband.”

“Not even if there was any extra left over for when we go on shore leave a month from now.”

The two share a smile over their sandwiches.

“Well, you’ll always feel like a celebrity to me,” Miles tells her, grinning. “Even if you didn’t do it. Though I have to tell you, some of the stories were very entertaining.”

“Hm?” Keiko asks, polite interest. “Like what?”

“Oh, you know. Dr. Hill’s pants. Some unnamed Andorian technician who started telling everyone their futures while standing on her head. Dr. Crusher and Counselor Troi kissing under the stars. And apparently some six crewmembers were found passed out in one of the observation nooks by one of the engineers on my shift. Maybe two of them were dressed?”

“It’s amazing how ‘kissing under the stars’ has remained such a part of how we talk, given that we’re almost always surrounded by them. We do everything under the stars these days. Well, almost.”

Miles puts down his sandwich and lies back to look up at the greenery for a moment. “It sounded like a great party. Sorry I had to miss it.”

“You engineers will have to come up with something to at least match it,” Keiko says to him, but her eyes are on what’s happening behind him, so far in the distance and so nicely laid out in front of the flowerbeds that one wouldn’t see it unless she knew what to look for. Still, the light’s hit Dr. Crusher’s hair just right, and the telltale sheen is unmistakeable to Keiko, even from here. “If it makes you feel any better, a lot of those hallucinations sound like wishful thinking.”

Dr. Crusher’s moving now, sitting up (had she been lying down before?), which was why it was noticeable. It doesn’t take that much more work to figure out who she’s with - or who she’s kissing, or whose arms are cradling the backs of both of their heads.

Something turns over in her stomach a little, like hunger that only becomes apparent after you’ve taken a bite.

“Keiko?” Miles asks. “Are you alright?”

She’s thinking of her wedding day, how frazzled she was that something felt out of place and not right. At the time, she hadn’t known what it was. She wasn’t one for stage fright, but that was maybe supposed to be part of this whole thing, right? Maybe there was supposed to be that last split second where you wonder if one person could be enough.

She knew enough at the time to realize that the problem wasn’t the person. However, she’d never questioned the number before.

She reaches out to take Miles’ hand. “I’m fine. Just thinking. I’m not finished thinking about it, though. I’ll bring it up if I do.”

Miles possesses understanding in seemingly infinite amounts; it’s one of the reasons she loves him and why being with him feels as natural as breathing. “Well, here’s something else to consider - it’s my turn to help plan the engineering party. This year, of all years.”

“It’s going to be a tough act to follow,” nods Keiko. “I guess you’re up for the challenge, though.”

Miles props himself up on his elbows. “Please help me.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

“Should I ask?” Will asks Deanna. She’s looking off somewhere in the distance, and it’s not like anyone feels like moving that much.

Deanna shakes her head. “Just something working itself out on its own.” Beverly looks up at both of them, curious, but ultimately stops in favor of closing her eyes again in the sunshine.

“Come to mine tonight?” Will offers. “I think I’m the only one left who hasn’t hosted.” He chuckles.

“I think that would be good,” Beverly says. “I might have to duck out a little early, though - I’m having breakfast with Jean-Luc.” She doesn’t know why saying that makes her a little bit nervous.

Deanna, however, beams. “You haven’t done that in a while.”

“Yeah, well, it’s time.” Beverly pauses, thoughtful. “I think I’ll have to tell him about us at some point. It should come from me.”

“I mean, we won’t always be like this. I think today's more of a - special occasion. And if last night's party was as good as we heard, very few people are going to be able to fully process anything in too much detail right now,” Will chuckles, gesturing to the way they’ve lounged together in the grass.

Beverly groans. "All you have to do is make it part of a semi-personal log. I was the one who had to treat all of those crew."

Deanna giggles. "You're one to talk. I still remember that one holiday the first year we were on the ship. I had  _no idea_ you'd learned so much from your botanical childhood--okay, okay, I won't bring it up. For now."

Will chuckles. “Anyway, I can’t promise you people won’t talk--” He glances sideways at Deanna. “--especially when you’re in command. But there’s no reason why we can’t keep this between us.”

“It’s our relationship,” Deanna adds, stroking back Beverly’s hair. “Ours. Everything that happens goes through the three of us.”

“The three of us,” Beverly repeats. She opens her eyes a little, and squinting, she looks up at her lovers, light dancing halolike behind their heads. “That sounds so beautiful.”

There’s so much she wants to say and ask - questions about Deanna and Will and imzadi and the times that they were with others but still so obviously  _ connected _ and selective telepathy. But this is enough reassurance for now. And instead, what comes out of her mouth is something different entirely.

“What is  _ ithái _ ?” She stumbles over the word, fumbling the accent enough that Will has to repeat it for her to understand.

Deanna blushes. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Sorry, Bev,” Will tells her - sometimes I hear things and I can’t remember if she said them out loud or--” He points to his head. “I was going to bring it up later, though.”

“I must not have been able to help myself,” whispers Deanna, and the way she’s looking at her feels so much like a kiss that Beverly almost closes her eyes and leans up. What would that feel like, to feel a kiss in her mind?

“It’s like imzadi, is it?” Beverly asks. “But uh, you know, not the same?”

Deanna reaches out to her then - almost sympathy - and Will reaches for Deanna’s thigh. “It doesn’t mean that in a way that’s  _ inequal _ .” Deanna tilts her head, thinking. “It is quite similar. Beloved. Hmm. Will?”

They exchange a look, and then Will scoots forward so his face is very, very close to Beverly’s. “Different journeys, very similar destinations. In that one gets there a little sooner than the other, but the journey for  _ ithái  _ is just as important as the destination. Does that make any sense?”

“You were before - and are now - my best friend, my confidante,” says Deanna. “I loved you like that first. And now, I love you in this way. It all exists together in one space.”

Beverly feels a smile creeping onto her face. “You fell in love with your best friend.”

Deanna ponders that for a moment. “I think that’s close enough. Yes.”

“ _ Ithái _ ,” Beverly repeats, and she stumbles again, but it’s a little closer this time. “You’ll teach me how to say it?”

Deanna smiles wide. “I’ll teach you whatever you want.”

She can’t help herself - Beverly bites her bottom lip, smiling. Will laughs and kisses her.

“Devastating, the both of you,” he says.

Deanna sighs. “You give yourself far too little credit, Will Riker.”

There’s a moment when all three of them are staring at each other, and then Will’s face is slowly spreading into that damn grin of his.

“Turn in early?” Beverly asks.

They stand together, helping each other up.

“It’s like she can read our minds,” Will tells Deanna. She laughs at that and slides an arm around his waist as they walk out.


End file.
